Dan x Serena One-Shots
by ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Just like the title says! I know I'm like really, really, 2000-late to this fandom but I binged on Netflix and am obsessed, and w/these two in particular, so hopefully it's still an active fandom somewhere. Updates will hopefully be frequent. If, that is, anybody still cares about this fandom enough (like me) to read/write fic about it - we'll see. You know you love me, xoxo.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: This is my first of hopefully many one-shots! Just as a thing: most of these are how I wish scenes would have happened, added scenes that I wanted in the respective episode, or continuations of scenes I felt weren't long enough! So it's all cannon as in the show (for the most part) and I will be sure to let you guys know when it is not (or you will be able to tell). This particular fic is how I wish the scene w/Blair and Serena in 4x02 happened i.e. for context "I love you Nate or I love you Dan?" **_

_**Please read and review! I welcome any and all thoughts! **_

_**You know you love me. xoxo. (I crack myself up *Stephanie Tanner voice*) **_

* * *

She laughed. She couldn't help it. But the way he called her _'baby' _just then, with a touch of mockery and with what sounded like the biggest smile in his voice made her lose her cool a little bit.

"Okay."

She was realizing that this wasn't supposed to be much of a satirical moment, for crying out loud, they had just kissed and made up, and not in the theoretical sort of sense either. More in the literal one.

Touching her fingers to her lips ever so slightly, she smiled to herself. Her bottom lip remained more tender than the top, and it didn't surprise her for two reasons; one, he always went crazy for her bottom lip, for some reason when they would make out he paid special attention to it – not that it was her place to complain, and two, when he's apologetic, he's also rougher. Again, not her place to complain.

"Okay, I will."

In fact, she kind of loved it. Don't get her wrong, she loved other things about him too, of course, like the way his curls felt between her fingers, and his smile – he smiles with his whole face and when it's directed at her, she wasn't going to make any promises to restrain herself. And that's how the kissing started. Then never stopped.

There were the pinkish beginnings of a hickey on the left side of her neck, one she was going to have to go to great creative lengths with one of her turtlenecks, or given that it's summer, a very high-necked cardigan, to hide tomorrow. But for now, she let it be, because if she concentrated hard enough, she could still feel the shape of his lips against her skin there, which very much reactive. And he knows that. Bastard. He could get her to say literally anything when he's kissing her neck like that.

She'd told him that she wanted to be with him, and nobody but him, and it wasn't a lie, but honestly, she'd wanted it to come out right, in the moment – a perfect, lovely, thought-out moment, but instead it came out in a breathy tumble of words, enshrouded by the distractions her body was feeling. The words were not what she had been focusing on. It was his hand pulling on her hair as he got to work on her neck; it was her hand pressing itself into his chest and feeling his heart beat tenfold; it was his soft moans of approval each time he took a breath, as her other hand wound themselves in his curls, her rings probably scratching his scalp.

When she told him to stop, he did, but was confused. They both took deep, revitalizing breaths as they stared at each other and slowly, she watched as the lust began to fade but took satisfaction from the fact that it never really disappeared completely. She realized with a start that he was looking at her the way he always did when they were together.

And, in all honesty, when they were apart, too. While there was a little bit of dirty in his eyes, because, let's face it, she's Serena van der Woodsen, and even though she hates to admit it sometimes, when guys looked at her, there was always a sparkle in silent, or not so silent, acknowledgement of her sex appeal. It was just part of the deal. But with Dan, there was something more. Something that she wanted to hold onto and never let go.

Abruptly, she flashed back to that moment when they were laying in his bed for the first time together, dressed as down as one could be before being naked, both with clear intentions. That is, until she backed out. She couldn't have sex with him. Not if that look on his face was going to go away. When they finally did and it didn't, she was so relieved, and made a vow to herself right then and there that if that look ever left his face, then she had done something really wrong, and would not rest until she fixed it.

So, when it went away one day, she couldn't stand to be around him. And so, she did the next best thing that she knew how to do. She threw herself into a relationship with the wrong person and clung to them. She clung onto Nate, had began to feel that familial love shift, but knew all the while that Nate brought comfort, he was not the one her heart was set out to have.

Which led her here. To the kissing, then some talking, and then she said it. And the look came back. It started in his eyes and then slowly spread outwards, and when he smiled at her, crinkles in the corners of his eyes and all, she swore she had never been more attracted to him than she was in that single, solitary moment.

Which led to a lengthy couple hours spent holed up in the loft, blankets tying knots around their ankles and clothes carelessly thrown anywhere that wasn't on their bodies.

Which then brought her here, to now, in her and Blair's place, as she paced the floor and talked to him on the phone. She could picture him leaning against the kitchenette counter, the window opened a bit to get some air in, doing just as much tousling to his curls as he was, while he smiled in that great, beautiful, every-muscle-in-the-face way of his. The image in her mind's eye right now was tangible enough to make her swoon.

And that was when Blair walked in.

"I love you too, bye."

Blair shot her a look that only _Blair_ would get away with.

"'I love you Nate', or 'I love you, Dan'?

Serena gave her a look right back. She almost went with '_I love you Mom'_ because she wasn't totally sure if she wanted to say anything right now. Was it because she didn't want to jinx it, maybe, or was it because Blair could be a judgemental bitch when she wanted to be, which was most days, and to most people, and knowing that she wasn't one of Dan's biggest fans made her that much more likely to judge their relationship. It had gotten better over the years, but still, Serena was wary.

But when it came down to it the girl, with her hip cocked, her left eyebrow raised in inquisition, and a bit of a smarmy smile, was her best friend. And when you promise not to tell people things, even if that promise was to herself, _best friends don't count._

She sighed. Then grinned. "You swear you're not going to judge?"

Blair rolled her eyes and sighed too, but there was a smidge of excitement that she could tell Blair was trying to conceal from her.

"I swear, S. Now come on, tell me."

She took a breath. Then another. She sensed Blair's anticipation and took one more deep breath just to piss her off a little bit.

"I love you, Dan."

Blair's eyes widened. "No way," she drawled, chuckling. "Humphrey came out on top."

Serena chuckled too, but with her mood currently it was more of a dumb, girlish giggle.

"Don't act so surprised. I'm not. I've known that Dan's the one for me since I met him. We're tethered. I can feel it."

Blair shook her head and tried to mask the disgust on her face. Okay, it's Blair Waldorf, the girl didn't try, nor would she ever, so Serena decided to pretend not to see it.

"Okay. That's great, S. I'm so happy for you, _blah, blah, blah_, but right now I need to get going with things for the fashion show."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: This one is based off of the scene in 4x10 - when Serena is taken to hospital because Juliet practically left her for dead. Again, what I wish had happened in that hospital scene**_.

* * *

He was so scared. He didn't want to admit it, not now, not ever, but he couldn't just pretend he wasn't feeling it. The sweaty palms and the racing heart were telling him all that he needed to know, all that he didn't want to know, didn't want to _feel. _

"Where is she!? Is she okay!? What happened?"

He'd found himself running towards the entrance of the hospital, shoving the stupidly heavy door wide open and then nearly running again (except his grade school mantra about no running in the halls had admittedly stuck with him all of these years), and then there he was. Asking. Begging. Pleading. _Needing._

He was needing her to be okay, because if she wasn't – because if she wasn't, then –

"She overdosed. In some cheap motel room in Queens, alone."

The confusion took a hold of him for a brief second. No. Drugs? Serena? _His_ Serena? No. But –

"I don't know what I would do if anything happened to her."

The possessiveness came into his thoughts without warning. Without any sort of preamble. There was no revelation, no big, epiphanic moment, nothing. _His. _

"Sometimes I forget what a recent addition you are, Humphrey. Because this sounds exactly like the Serena I used to know."

He blinked, once, twice, three times in as many seconds. The florescent lights were making his eyes dry. Then Blair walked away, and he was left standing there on his own. Two things were now at his emotional forefront. One was terror. And two, the love he had for her, which he tried in vain to supress so much as kill all together, had it nearly beat. Nearly.

He was so damn scared and nothing, not some cheap coffee, or lame cafeteria food or his dad's sage advice, or Lily's gentle cadence, not even Blair's blithe indifferent attitude towards him, more cut throat than usual, was going to make any of this any better. But god damn he wished it would. He _so_ wished it would.

"I need to see her."

He touched Blair's shoulder gently, barely recognizing the urgency there in his voice until she pointed it out, veiled thinly inside a terse response.

"Get in line. None of us are seeing her until we're cleared to. Until she wakes up."

She must have turned around and seen the look on his face, the veiny fear etched into his gaze, reaching, _desperate,_ because her own expression softened. This was the first time he'd seen Blair Waldorf look resigned, scared and infinitely small.

"Oh, Humphrey," she cooed, touching his hand for a second before, it seemed, realizing her indiscretion and pulled away, like his hand was something hot to the touch, something that scolded her. And he'd be offended if he either cared or was in a completely different frame of mind than he was right now. "I'm so sorry you had to meet her like this."

_Meet who_, he nearly asked, but he couldn't do that because he knew. He knew, yet he couldn't, nor would he, care less. Both Serenas, the one who seemed to be a tragic cry for help, and the one he smacked into that day outside of the Palace Hotel, were one in the same person to him. He loved her. The before and after. And the in between. _Jesus Christ,_ what was taking this hospital staff so long? He needed to see her. Now. Right now.

Just then, as if in answer to his prayer, the nurse came up to them. They were all together now, and when that happened, Dan couldn't say, but suddenly, there was Jenny beside him, squeezing his hand, her face as white as anything.

"Jen," he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "are you – "

"Fine," she hissed back, squeezing his hand again. He didn't have to look at her to see the pity in her eyes, the pity she was feeling for him, no doubt, and for Lily, for Blair, for Eric and for Serena, for the whole circumstance.

"She's awake now and if any of you want to go see her, you can," the nurse was saying.

Dan stepped forward, uncharacteristically bold, or maybe now, characteristically, _thank you Upper East Side living. _Before he could say anything though, there came a _'but'_ and it was what proceeded it that he hadn't been prepared for.

"She asked for a _Dan Humphrey,_ specifically. Told me to send him in to her first. Is he here with you all now?"

He stepped forward again. "Right – uh – here."

He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. He was slowly becoming aware of the lingering confusion that seemed to radiate from both Lily and his dad, and Blair, and Vanessa and everyone else. To be honest, even he was confused. But then he followed that nurse down the hallway and into Serena's room – no, no, he couldn't call it that, it made this all too real, it wouldn't be her room. It was just a room.

But regardless of whose room it was, there she lay propped up by a couple pillows and the set incline of the bed. She was covered in hospital blankets and the mandated gown, he knew, she wore underneath all of them. Her hair looked blonder in this light, almost like a bleach blonde, a color he had no trouble picturing as the hair of a little girl. Serena ages three to five perhaps. It made him smile, that image, Serena, at the age to match her sweet, lilting little laugh.

He wished however, that she wasn't so pale, that her skin wasn't waxy, that it didn't hold that sickly sheen, that the blue of her eyes wasn't so dull, and her expression wasn't so flat. He longed to see that smile, the one that rivaled her laugh with its effervescence and vivre, but didn't beat, because together, those two things were a firestorm, bursting with light and a heat that jolted him alive. She made him feel _so alive,_ but right now, right here, she seemed almost the complete opposite. He would never use the word _dead_, because they'd come dangerously close to it, much too close to use in mirth ever again, and so he didn't.

She cleared her throat. It sounded raspy. Probably dry from a tube being rammed down it before. He fought the urge to cringe as he took the few steps to her bedside and gave her the glass of water that had been sitting there. She took a small sip. Then another. Gave it back to him. He placed it back on the tray.

Staring up at him, she lifted her hand, coincidently, the one with the IV buried in a vein – he tried not to cringe again, but it was harder this time, and then he felt her fingers stroke his jaw. He held her gaze.

"Hey, baby," she spoke quietly, but not in a whisper. He had a feeling it was as much as she could do right now, and he would take it.

Now, he reached down and touched her face, the back of his hand, the ridge of his knuckles gliding softly, delicately, across her cheek. He took the other hand and smoothed her hair, flattening it down against her head, more than it already had been.

She didn't seem to mind, or even notice, and, really, he just needed to feel her hair in between his fingers again. Stupidly, it has become a comfort of sorts for him over the years and clearly that didn't stop being true even as they were no longer together. He didn't know how to take that, at least not yet, so for right now, he'd let it be as it may. She sighed in response, but it wasn't in aggravation, or annoyance, but it wasn't indifference either. It was the sigh that was unique to her vulnerable side. His favorite side of her. If he had to pick, that would be the one.

The hand that had stilled on her cheek moved again, up and down, down and up. "Hey baby," he said back with a strained smile that was at least somewhat genuine because she was here, she was alive, no matter the state of it. "I think the color's starting to return to your face. So that's good. Great, actually."

She smiled back in that same way. "Well, I'd think so."

"Serena…" he sighed. "You could have come to Blair, Eric, someone. You could have come to _me_."

"Wait," she bit her lip, moving her hand towards his and taking it, intertwining their fingers and putting them down in her lap. "You don't think I did this to myself, do you? Because I didn't." She met his eyes, their tears a reflection of one another. "I would never."

He sighed again. More emphatic than the last. "I don't know what to think. I want to believe you – but – they're taking you to the Ostroff Centre."

"What!? No – not – now!?"

He could tell that she didn't want to go, that she wanted to resist. Her eyes were screaming defiance and her mouth was a hard, immovable line. She just didn't say it.

"There's paparazzi everywhere. I don't know if you are aware of this," he chuckled, "but you generate quite a media storm with your presence around here."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: 5x13 Blair and Louis' wedding (this whole arc was weird but we'll ignore this couple for now). Serena makes her 'grand gesture' as per Nate's believing that everyone has them. And if we are going to get what we want, we gotta go for it. **_

* * *

"I love you Dan Humphrey. Always have. Always will."

He couldn't speak. He had loved her, so much, and for so long, that he wasn't completely sure of where it stopped. Where_ he_ stopped. If he ever truly did. Maybe what she was saying wasn't completely off base_._

"Serena," he stuttered out, nearly cooed. Was it in pity? He didn't know that, either. A nicety?

She was just so sweet and endearing in that damn way of hers that wasn't so much the _van der Woodsen _charm, or the _Serena van der Woodsen_ charm as it was just simply _hers._ It had been only hers for awhile now. Belonging not to the Upper East Side's prodigal _'It girl'_ but to her. He sighed. To_ her_, the love of his life, the boy from Brooklyn, born and raised.

_Always have. Always will. _

"You don't have to respond right now. I have some maid of honor things to do before Blair and Louis leave. But I really hope we can talk later."

She was giving him one last, lingering look. Almost as if she were daring him to say something. To stop her from leaving. Maid of honor duties be damned if they could sneak into a nearby bedroom and just make out for a little while. Further confuse things. Heh. He almost chuckled. It was always cat and mouse with her. And, in a not-so-turn of-events that _may_ not be surprising to him, he felt like he was ready to indulge her. Maybe for one last time.

Except, now she was walking the opposite direction, away from him. He'd waited too long, thought about it too much.

"Reena."

She stopped. Froze in place. From his spot further away from her, he could almost see her heart beating, her palms sweating, her mind racing. "Wait."

The nickname spilled from his lips, coming from a place he hadn't known his heart still pumped blood into. When in fact, he was realizing now, as she tuned slowly around to stare at him, head on, that cavern was the biggest of all. It was both a chasm and a harbor.

"What did you say?" she asked, with a coy accent, but even still, it seemed doubting, as if she may not have heard him right.

Dan cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, stared down at the floor for a beat. It took three seconds for him to once again become the outsider from Brooklyn with a lame crush on Serena van der Woodsen, or desperate love, depending on which way you looked at it. They were the same thing, basically.

"Reena," he whispered it this time. "Wait. Please."

He didn't want this to be dramatic. They were at a wedding, for Christ sakes. The exact cliché he promised he'd kill himself for if he ever wrote it. But now, depending on how this went down, he was thinking a bit differently.

"Yes?" she nearly choked out and bit her lip.

He could see her eyes were misting over as they searched him, and it was like she was afraid to blink, afraid of tears, or maybe, she just didn't want to, because blinking meant looking away. Looking away from him.

Funny, because he felt the same. The burning behind his eyes and the ache of keeping them open as the same exact emotion playing her, right now, played him. The difference was, he nearly let himself cry. What was the use of this anymore? The damn, stupid, trick he was trying to fool his mind with – hah, he didn't love her. Not like that. Because she was his step-sister. But it wasn't like that, was it? No, he'd convinced himself he didn't love her anymore long before their parents ever made things official between them. This wasn't their fault.

Then who's was it, then? She stepped towards him. One step, two. And he filled in the gap. Three and four. Like children at their first Cotillion. Jesus, who was he!? _Children at their first –_ the answer was simple.

He found it the second she buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and inhaled, and he pursed his lips against the side of her head in something more than friendly and breathed a mix of Chanel No. 5 and vanilla. He was _Lonely Boy from Brooklyn _turned _Upper East Side Connoisseur_ – he was Daniel Humphrey, the person who was most irrevocably, irretrievably, insanely and conclusively in love with the girl now standing right in front of him. Serena Celia van der Woodsen.

"I love you," she murmured against his chest and it's a miracle that he'd even heard her. Maybe it was just what he was listening for. His brain playing Freudian tricks on him. Although, in case it isn't, he wasn't going to take any chances. No more. No longer. Never again.

"I love you, too."

He felt her sigh before he heard it, the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of her chest, but right then, it felt like the largest earthquake in the world, shaking his resolve to its very core as he felt relief, intense relief, wash through him.

He held her close, his hands against her mid-back, then her lower, because he could do that now, again, and who was he to not? They swayed to the music for some time, less than a minute, an instrumental version of some love song, the remnants of the bride and groom's first dance. Now, he didn't want to jinx anything, but this may be quite fitting.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear. "So much." This time, she shivered, and he gently kissed the crown of her head, humming the last of the chords into her hair. "It was stupid of me to deny it. I shouldn't have."

"Hm." Another sigh. He'll interpret them as relief, relief of pent up proclamations and sentiments uttered only halfway, until he was proven otherwise. "I forgive you. We're here now. You and me, Dan, and that's all that matters."

"You and me, Reena. It'll always be you and me."

Serena giggled and kissed where she could reach, moving to his lips a second later. "I love you."

He chuckled too, brushing their noses together, then dipping his head low to kiss her, for longer and sweeter than she did him, if that were possible.

Suddenly, breaking up their moment of solitude surrounded by a crowd of people, was Nate, cupping his shoulder in his palm in order to get his attention. It seemed like he just registered touch in these moments, and nothing else, because Dan felt the heaviness of Nate's hand, it seemed like, long before hearing his voice.

"I hate to break up what looks to be the product of a one and only grand gesture," he gave Serena a sly smile which she immediately returned, "but you two are needed. With me. Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note: Oh wow. This one actually has a title. '_**The Bar of the Campbell Apartment ' I bet you can guess. 5x24 - Serena seduces Dan. A little smutty but nothing above T-rating.

* * *

She couldn't say it then. Not when her right leg was wound tightly around his torso, and he was holding her so tightly to him that she feared bruising on her skin. It was almost greedy, the way he was touching her, and when she hooked her left leg around his hip, a little lower this time, she felt herself slip forward across the bar, then back just as quickly, but then, in that moment, the only thing she became aware of was his presence somewhere else besides on her mouth, tongue, and chest.

_Holy hell,_ he was there, between her legs, with his lips mauling the crevice between her neck and shoulder, he was right, fucking there, where she needed him to be, and all she could do was bite his neck to give the hickey to rival all hickeys, to stifle her scream.

His hands wound themselves in her hair and knotted themselves harshly and without restraint, he pulled once, twice, three times, and whether it was to rise a reaction out of her or himself, she had no idea, but then he moaned her name, soft at first, then louder, into the hallow of her throat. Everything was a blur. She didn't know how he'd ended up down there, when his mouth was in her hair not even two seconds ago. He started to suck with vengeance, moving torturously slow towards her pulse point, and she arched her neck to give him more access, hoping to speed up the process.

"Dan…"

He groaned, and she pulled herself closer to him, her arms around his neck like he was her only hope of being saved. She adjusted her position slightly, her head falling back in bliss when she finally got to where she needed to be, and he sensed that, going deeper, pushing harder. He dropped his head low, his forehead now against her stomach.

"Serena…"

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head, pursing her lips and ruffled the curls with her fingertips. She'd always had a special place in her heart for those curls.

"I'm right here," she whispered to him, holding his head against her chest, drawing the shape of his jaw with her hands.

If she wanted to, she thought, her lips hovering there, she could lean over and – and before she even knew what she was doing, her teeth were grazing his jaw, her bottom lip trailing behind across the stubble. Sexy literary stubble. "I'm going to stay right here. With you. In this moment."

In response, there came a low, guttural moan, coated with sweat and sex and that sweet sound of straddling the edge.

"Serena…"

He moved his kisses to her lips again, strong and searing as they forced her mouth around, and she sunk into it, returning the favor just as roughly, if not more so, because it has been a long time since a kiss has made her feel like this, and damn her if she wants to hold onto it a little longer.

"That's it, babe. Say it again," she breathed out, "Please."

She needed to hear him say her name; more than that, she needed him to scream it, cry it, moan it, _feel_ it, feel each syllable form on his tongue. _She_ was Dan's. Not would always be Dan's. And Dan will always be _hers._ He just needs to know that.

She took a deep breath of the humid hair entrenched with the saccharinity of booze and their scents together, pressed into damp skin, hot and sticky. Somehow, it was sexy as hell. It didn't seem like the right place for this, and somehow, it totally was.

"I love you. I love you."

This time, his thrust had so much power behind it that she nearly fell back off the bar, but before she could he grabbed onto her hips and pulled, because now she was bending at his will, and he took advantage of that.

Surprisingly, even as sweet and sensitive as he is and while this does translate elsewhere, _cough, the bedroom, cough,_ he was also someone bolder. Demanding. Someone who wasn't afraid to take what he wanted, when he wanted it. And that, right now, was her.

"_Fuck_, I love you."

While she usually prided her prep-school mouth, she seemed to let go of it in bed. It shocked most of the guys she'd been with, but especially Dan. Whenever she swore he got this crazed look in his eyes - the New Yorker in her, or more precisely, because nobody on the Upper East Side would ever get caught saying _shit, _it was the secluded Brooklynite in her, got him hot and bothered like nothing else.

He just kept kissing her, assaulting her bottom lip with his tongue and teeth, his hands holding her at the knees, slowly moving upward until they were at her thighs.

"Serena…"

He squeezed her thighs. Once, twice, a third time. And then his nails dug into her skin and she knew, she knew from the many times they've done this that this was it. And she'd thought she'd be on her own. Until she wasn't.

Until his thumbs were pressed into her pelvic bone and teasingly grazed over the rest of her. She bit her lip and his too, but he didn't pull away, merely smirked against her mouth as his fingers, which, she wasn't at all embarrassed to say were soaked already, pushed themselves inside of her.

"I'm almost there…" she sighed, her forehead against his, her mind numbing, her mouth forgetting how to work, how to speak, much less how to kiss. So, it was slack against his until his knuckle hit that _fucking spot, _and that was it.

"Oh my god, Dan!"

She felt him leaning against her, watching her, as she came, allowing her body to ride out this wonderful, intense, clearly long sought-after orgasm, trembling, shaking, crying out for more, like an aftershock. In one last euphoric thought, she wondered if the look in his eyes was the one from the first time he watched her like this. A wild mixture of fascination, disbelief, and unparalleled feeling. _Love. _With one last sweaty kiss, she laughed, because hadn't Blair told her that she and Dan hadn't finished their first time? She smirked at him, and he shot her a look of confusion in return. _Oh, poor boy, poor baby whom she loved so dearly_, if only he knew what she did.

Her smirk quickly turned into a genuine smile, and her reflection in the wall of wine glasses showed her that the happiness was reaching her eyes. He smiled too, taking his hand and sliding her now-wrinkled slip back over her thighs, before offering it to her so she could come down from the bar.

She couldn't help but notice that he held her hands for a few seconds longer than necessary, squeezing lightly before he let them go.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note: This one's a bit angsty. Surprise! Takes place as a continuation of the last 30 seconds of 5x24 - when Serena's on the train after Dan tells her he doesn't want to see her again. **_

* * *

She stared down at the vile of drugs in between her fingertips, moved them around a bit. She watched the powder go from one end to the other. Her eyes were already feeling heavy – was it her body begging for a high, so incessant that she was feeling pseudo effects, or was it the longing for a dark, deep, sleep to overtake her body? Maybe both, after all, she's been _that_ high once before, under duress, sure, but still, nothing was stopping her from doing it now, again, and to herself, safely enough so that she wasn't going to have to call 911, this time; or, maybe not.

She didn't have to be safe anymore. Not for anyone. Not for Blair, not for herself. And so, she breathed in deep. It wasn't the most elegant way to do a line, but it wasn't the, for lack of a nicer term, dirtiest way she'd done one either.

As this guy whose name she's already forgotten, so now she'd know him as Damien's dog, began to kiss her neck with a little too much gusto that she could already tell she was not a fan of, she shut her eyes, head lulling against the window. She didn't want to be thinking about him.

She was angry at him; sad for herself, for _them._ And so, he was the very last person she needed to be safe for. He didn't want to see her again. Yet, still, she wanted him to be there, inside her head, her thoughts, either drug or sleep induced, because right now, even the palest figment of him would keep her here, and stable, at least until she got off of the train, right? And so, she shut her eyes and let herself pretend that it was Dan kissing her like that, and before she knew it, as sick as it was, she was moaning – it was more in a sad, tragic way than it was in a sexual way, but this guy felt encouraged.

So encouraged, in fact, he slipped his hand under her dress and held onto her thigh, and she was in such a weird, pitiful, and blank state that she just let him. She wasn't going to pretend that she hasn't done far worse, or let herself be in far worse situations, because she has, and that was clearly common knowledge, or at least to this guy it was.

Serena shut her eyes even tighter and bit her bottom lip, her breathing slow, heavy, like in consecutive sighs. And then there were tears. She let them come, didn't even try and hold them back.

"Dan," she whimpered, almost whined, and had she done that, there was risk of alerting other people on the train.

The last thing she wanted right now was her socialite status to come and bite her in the ass like it's done one too many times already.

"It's Zeke," he practically groaned into her ear. The sound of his voice, gravelly and suave, too suave for his own good, startled her. She almost flinched but was able to control it at the last second. "But you can call me whatever you want, baby. "

_Baby – _Dan used to call her that. Of course, it was used ironically and only to continuously freak their then-together parents out every once and awhile, and then their friends (because admittedly, she kind of loved watching Blair squirm whenever even the prospect of her and Dan together was brought up) and it was platonic, they would say, but both of them had to have known that it wasn't. Once they got back together for only a short run, they would use it in the un-platonic way, in that stupid, moony, vomit-inducing way, with only a touch of irony.

She fought the urge to cry out loud. He always said that he wasn't going to call her_ baby_ without at least a subtle rising hint of irony because the pet name was the very definition of cliché and as a writer, Dan had said there was a special place for clichés where he was concerned. She smiled to herself.

She remembered laughing then, because it doesn't take a genius to figure that he meant _Hell _and right away, he grinned at her, kissed the side of her head and pulled her closer to him with a rousing compliment about her laugh. _"If you ever laugh like that in bed, I don't think I'll be able to finish without feeling like a pedophile, honestly." _

"_Dan!" _She had squealed, shoving his shoulder and laughing again.

"_What?" _He'd asked her, biting his lower lip to try and tame the full-fledged smirk that was fighting its way onto his face.

In response, she kissed him, full and deep. Right there on Madison Avenue with an eight-dollar latte in her hand. _"I love you, baby"_

He chuckled too, holding her cheek in his palm as he kissed her back. She could feel his teeth against her mouth as he smiled. She felt herself mimic his expression which only made his smile bigger_. "Right back at you, baby." _

And now she did cry. She cried big, gasping sobs and she couldn't control them, and she didn't know if it was because of how fucked up she was right now, physiologically speaking, or how psychologically she was just as screwed up, maybe even more so. She could hear herself mumbling through her tears, and slowly, the mumbles were getting louder, clearer, and she realized, a little slow right now, that she was crying out for him, desperate to have him hear her.

"Okay…" she heard Zeke say from beside her, and vaguely she heard something else too, but his voice was getting further and further away from her, and hers was getting closer. It seemed like she was screaming now but that couldn't be true because otherwise someone would have her taken off of this train and –

Nothing…her screaming has stopped. She couldn't hear Zeke anymore. Or feel the movement of the train. She wasn't having any semblance of a thought, not a sentence, not a word, not a letter. There was just…nothing. Darkness didn't even exist in her version of the world right now. Nothing did. Not even Serena van der Woodsen. The girl people used to know.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note: Okay, so I was watching Blake and Penn interviews and other fan-made compilations because they are literally the cutest ever. You can just tell that they really did love each other. _**

**_I can't believe they dated for three whole years and then so soon after, she met Ryan - whom I find incredibly sexy - for real - and I love those two together and their beautiful babies, don't get me wrong. I stan Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds with my whole soul. Seriously. _**

**_I was just intrigued by her and Penn's relationship (once I found out it was a thing). Rumor has it she wanted to marry him and have kids and stuff but he was not one for commitment at the time so they broke up? And I mean they were pretty young so I don't blame the guy, nor do I blame her because I want kids young too. _**

**_Ugh but their interviews and stuff and as rare as it seemed to be when they offhandedly mentioned each other regarding relationship questions was so adorable. And their history as kids makes me have even more of a soft spot for them together. _**

**_So, before I even knew what I was doing, I wrote this. I've seen other P and B (Plake?) fics out there also (sure, they're from like 2013 and before but I'm late to the party so oh well, if anybody still cares, cool, if not, also cool). _**

**_Obviously, in case I do have to say it, this is one hundred percent fictional and out of respect for other parties involved at present (Ryan and Penn's wife - she is his wife, right?) this fic takes place during Gossip Girl's run, specifically its beginning - so 2007. _**

* * *

"B?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah?"

Wait. Hold on. Why did two people respond? Two different people.

One, he knew without even having to look, was its due recipient, her voice almost sugary sweet and that was without her even trying.

When she's trying to be polite, and when she's not, there's no difference. Not to the untrained ear anyways. In actuality, to those trained in nuances, and those nuances idiosyncratic to _her,_ her voice cracks on certain letters when she's actively forcing herself to be _understanding_ and _supportive _and whatever other virtue counts towards politeness points.

The other voice was smoother, with a slightly lower register, and more regal. Leighton.

Not in the way where he's saying that Blake's voice is childish, because that's definitely not true, and in fact, her unique timbre speaks a hushed intellect, modest and not overbearing.

Both women were looking at him.

Blake's eyes were practically scrutinizing his face, though he knew she didn't mean for it to come off that way, she was just concerned, as much as she was curious. Her expression was saying _'You alright? You don't usually interrupt a scene like this. It's weird and you're worrying me.' _

Meanwhile, Leighton's stare was pointed, almost a glare in its own right, her body matching its stature - arms folded, and feet squared. It felt almost threatening. It said _'fucking Badgely. Are you kidding? We can't trust you with a simple cue?' _

It's not that Leighton didn't like him. She liked him fine. Or so he thought. She was just matter-of-fact in the way she spoke, and while he respected it, it gave off a certain sort of vibe and, well, he didn't like to say it scared the shit out of him sometimes. But really though, it scared the shit out of him sometimes. Like now.

"Dude, you know Blair's not even in this scene, right? I guess I screwed up too by answering you," she laughed, and it was chime-y and light. It should have freaked him out more, but it instead put him at ease. "But since when does Humphrey get off on calling Blair, B?"

"Sorry Ms. Waldorf," he grinned conspiringly at her. "But I was actually talking to Blake. Christ, I didn't mean to ruin the take. I thought we'd stopped rolling for a sec."

"Why would we do that? We never do that. Badgely, no offense but what are you on?"

He nearly snorted in laughter but kept it at bay. He couldn't say the same for Blake though. Every time someone got her laughing, hard, he had to remind himself that there _wasn't_ a tea-cup pig on set, and if there _was_, its name was Blakers and she was _absolutely insane._

But he loved her. Not like that. Or, maybe a_ little_ like that. It was to be determined. Then, she laughed some more.

_Okay_, he thought to himself with a bit of a secret smile. _It's determined. He loves her like that._ _He totally loves her__** just **__like that._

"And you," Leighton turned her eyes onto Blake now. This time, the smirk that had threatened to take over her lips as she was talking to him, succeeded in its revolt.

"Major Space Cadet. Where's your head today? As you keep reminding everyone, we are all super professional, right?"

"Meaning that for the next few hours, you are answering to_ Serena_, not to _Blake._ I mean it, you two. If we end up running overtime because of things like this…" she trailed off, shaking her head, but the smile was still there to show that she was teasing. Marginally.

"I'll hate you both because I have dinner plans to keep."

Penn chuckled. Blake giggled some more.

"Sorry Leight," she apologized, biting her lip, bashfully bowing her head.

There was still that grin on her face, the sharpness of her dimples brought forward by the brightness surrounding what was ostensibly the Constance/St. Jude's quad and when their eyes met, it got bigger, it got _secretive_.

"_I_ have dinner plans too," she said, with an emphasis on the_ I_, as in_ myself and me_, just to make him squirm, to get back at him for his little _actor faux pau_. "But I'm not sure they include what someone would conventionally call _dinner."_

Leighton looked them both once over. Blake's smarmy little smirk and his lower-lip bite and slight glare.

He could argue it was to shade his eyes from the harshness of the sun, but the claim wouldn't stand. Just like Blake's flimsy brush off regarding _her_ plans. Not in this_ People's Court_. While the jury was correspondents worthy of Gossip Girl herself – Chace and Ed – they didn't have anything on Judge Meester.

"Mhm," she finally hummed, letting them both off the hook it seemed, for the time being. "I'll allow it. Until you give me a reason that says I shouldn't."

Penn shook his head, chuckling. It's not like they were going back to his place, or hers, to have sex. Besides, trailer-sex is very much not the experience he had in mind, so he could safely say that it wasn't on his to-do list, not again. Provided they don't end too late, the two of them had a John Hughes marathon planned back at the hotel, with _Red Vines_, popcorn, _Dr. Pepper_, the works. And if that ended in sex, well, he wouldn't complain.

* * *

"Hey, B?" Penn called, walking into the room from the adjoining bathroom.

She looked up at him from where she was, enveloped under the covers, and grinned. Her gaze zeroed in on the tautness of his torso, bare with drips of water still snaking down his pale, nearly white, skin, more specifically, the little patch of course hair making a dark trail from his belly button to his pelvic bone.

"You should get a spray tan."

He scoffed, looking down at himself and then back up at her. "Gee, thanks I guess. And here, all this time, I was thinking you thought I was sexy. What a breeding ground for insecurity this revelation is, hm?"

"Oh, come on, babe. Get over yourself."

"Hm, I'll try," Penn murmured against the skin of her neck as he climbed into bed next to her. "I'll really, really try. But I can't promise anything."

Suddenly, interrupting them, her phone dinged. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Ugh," she rolled over, grabbed the phone from off of the nightstand and unlocked it. "Freakin Facebook."

"What?"

Penn leaned over her shoulder, taking her phone in his palm to tilt it closer to himself. He stared at the picture for a minute. She watched him smile.

It was of the two of them, arms wrapped around each other, wearing the goofiest grins and an obscene amount of grape jelly. Well, as obscene of an amount for anybody over the age of three.

Penn had some smeared on his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth, and had she thought about what an uproar it was likely to cause before, she would have been more careful, and have told him to do the same. She had it on the bridge of her nose and her hairline.

She was sticking her tongue out in the picture too, showing it off in all its purple glory, in a failed, but more than that, comedic attempt to lick the jelly from above her upper lip.

Meanwhile, he was just looking at her, and now that she inspected the picture closer, it seemed like he was _staring_ at her, more than that, he was _marvelling_ her – for what – evidently not her beauty, because _wow,_ did she look like a drowned rat out of hell in this picture.

Her hair was dishevelled, she had pale, dry, lips, her mascara was a little clumpy in spots, leaving a subtle dark shadow under her eyes; but still, they were bright, and she looked happy. And she was. _So happy._

Even as she looked like she did, he was still giving her that_ look_, for some reason. Like he was impressed by her; like he was genuinely taken aback by her very presence, as though he didn't believe that she actually existed; like she was his best friend, who, by just being herself, showed him what it was like to feel something, _for real._ Like he _loved_ her. Like he loved her with _everything he had. _

And she wrestled with that on a daily basis. Sure, Kelly had loved her – he said that he did, and while Blake knew that the boy didn't have it in him to lie, she knew now too, that he'd loved her in that dopey, _struck-by-lightening,_ teenaged way.

Penn was a man, a man who loved like she lit something up inside of him, awakened something lovely and powerful and all-consuming, making him _stay._ Even as he felt weak and vulnerable and sick with a longing to run, he stayed, with her, for her, and _because_ of her.

He was in her orbit now, and she, in his. And neither of them, she just had this feeling, would rather have it any other way.

She felt his knuckles soft against her cheek. "Blakers?"

"Mhm?"

Her family called her that. _Blakers_. Since she was a little girl, maybe two, and even now, at twenty-two, they use that moniker. Sometimes it was embarrassing, sometimes endearing. Sometimes it made her angry, sometimes it made her cry, and sometimes it made her smile but never, not until the first time it left his mouth in a quiet, almost shy, whisper, did it give her butterflies.

"I love you."

Like she was still that little girl, terrified of the top of the monkey bars, while she was also a woman who was absolutely terrified about falling in love, _real_ love, with a boy she'd known almost half of her life, a boy with scraggly curls and a cherub face, who'd now become a man, a man with those same curls and now had a curvature to his cheekbones and jaw, peppered with that artist's stubble.

He was cute then, but he was _beautiful _now, and that prospect in itself made her lose her cool, especially because she had the feeling he felt the same way about her. And when he told her he loved her, for the very first time in the intimate way where she knew that he meant it, really, truly meant it, it scared her; and it scares her now, sometimes, too. She took a deep breath. Shot him a small, reserved, smile.

"I love you, too, P."

Penn grinned and gave a sweet, languid kiss to her lips in response. Their give and take matched perfectly, and she took care of their chemistry, wanted to savor it, cherish it; and as she gave herself fully to the kiss, leaning into his chest and resting her hand against his heart, pulsating and bare under her touch, she prayed that she could live in their romantic little bubble for the rest of her life.

It was worth a shot.

After she separated from him, she looked at her photo that she'd posted again.

_Blake Lively: P, B, and J. The most iconic trio. We love sandwiches, but the question is do you? _

The comments were pouring in faster than she could even refresh her feed. The app actually crashed a few times. Some were actually in answer to the question – _ha _– some were sweet, some were funny, and some were downright creepy and perverted.

She'd choose to ignore those. Okay, so she laughed at a couple of them first, _then_ ignored them. Her sense of humor wasn't exactly high bar, or that of Serena van der Woodsen. Or maybe it _was_. They just haven't gotten that far in the script writing just yet. _Hm. _

She made a mental note to bring it up with the producers one of these days. What would be funnier than Serena's joke though, would be Blair Waldorf's reaction to it. Now that, ladies and gents, would be pure comedy _gold._ She was picturing Leighton's scoff that failed to cover up the fact that she was actually impressed, crossed with Blair's flair for the dramatics – a breathy sort of gasp and a click of the tongue.

She'd mention it to Penn first, later. She could picture Dan Humphrey playing off of her with salacious quips of his own. They'd have a ball. Right now, though, he was kissing her neck again and it was distracting. Very distracting.

"Hey, wait," she told him, putting her hand on his shoulder closest to her to stop him. "Read these comments with me."

He folded his arms across his chest, spoke into the warm skin of the crevice between her neck and shoulder.

"Okay, now I'm really starting to believe you don't find me sexy."

She laughed, ruffled his curls with her fingertips. It was a stupid, insignificant thing to notice, and especially _right now,_ but when she looked at him she also looked at her hand. Without Serena's costume rings on, her hand felt lighter, and doing this, and the feeling of those curls against her hand, was _different._ _Better._

"Come on,P, of course I do. You know that."

He grinned cheekily at her. "Do you _really_, though?"

"Get a grip," she laughed again as he nibbled her ear. "Seriously though, look at all these people freaking out. Over us."

"What?"

The nibbling stopped. He took the phone from her. Scrolled through the comments, but he couldn't be reading them, it was too fast. "No way. This is nuts."

"I know. People are onto us. Being a mainstream celebrity has officially hit us like a ton of bricks. How does it feel? To me, it's kind of disconcerting but it's also kind of fun, too, you know?"

"Agreed."

Together, laying in bed side by side, they continued to look at all the comments, both new and old, for hours. Sure, they had a five AM call time the next morning, but they were both having too much fun to sleep.

They even decided to yank on some chains a little. Like the assholes they were. With a smirk passed between them, she started to type.

* * *

The next morning, both of them were absolutely wrecked. And by wrecked, she felt the need to clarify, she meant exhausted. _Absolutely exhausted_. But it was worth it.

Blake watched as Penn came onto set, the St. Jude's uniform on and bookbag slung over his shoulder. His hair was no longer mused like it had been this morning.

When they'd woken up in his room a mere three hours ago now, she'd made a face at him as he stirred awake, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"_Why are you staring at me?" _

_She reached out her hand and pushed his hair back, relishing in the beginnings of a cowlick in the middle of his forehead. She smiled to herself. _

"_Seriously, what?" _

_Blake leaned forward slightly and kissed his forehead. She hummed softly, contentedly, against his skin. _

"_Nothing. I just love everything about this. Our mornings. Especially your hair." _

_Penn gave her the side eye, which got her laughing. _

"_What __**about**__ my hair!?" _

_Her smile got wider, her laughter not subsiding in the least bit. He was totally wigging out. She knew that the state of his hair was a sore spot, because sometimes taming those wild curls was impossible, but its what she loved about them, and a bonus, saying anything about it totally pushes all the right buttons. _

"_Baby, you know I love your hair," she paused, "and how it reminds me of a six-year-old boy's." _

_He grumbled. Just like she knew he would. He sat up on his elbow and just stared at her, silently, as she continued to laugh at his gobsmacked reaction, whether it was exaggerated for her benefit remained to be seen. Probably not. Like she'd said, the man was nuts about his hair. Uncle Jesse had nothing over Penn Badgely. Not here. Not with this. _

"_And your laugh reminds me of a four-year-old." _

_Abruptly, her laughter stopped. She harrumphed and made a face just like the one he had given her. But it didn't last. She dissolved into another round of giggles and they didn't stop until he smothered them with kisses. _

"_I love your laugh," he whispered against her mouth. _

"_And I love your hair," she smirked against his. "Even more than you." _

_Penn gasped. "Take that back." _

_She gasped, too. Purely to mock. "Make me." _

_He said nothing. Just pulled the covers over their heads as she squealed in surprise and returned to kissing her senseless. Seriously. She __**meant**__ that. _

_It only took approximately thirty seconds for her to forget which way was up. Were they upside down right now, like Peter Parker and Lois Lane? Oh, that would be so hot. _

_She had __**no idea.**__ All she was aware of, all she could feel, all that she could dream of feeling again, after it inevitably comes to an end, was his mouth seared hotly against hers and his hands tangled deeply in her hair. _

"Hello? Earth to Blake? Are you okay?"

She shook her head to clear it and turned to face Leighton, who looked concerned.

"Um, sorry Leight. I – uh – was just lost in thought."

"Lost in thought _my ass_," she said, "more like daydreaming. About _lover boy_ over there?"

Blake smacked her shoulder and Leighton shrieked in response.

"Hey now, that was unnecessary. I was just asking you a question."

"Funny," she said back, "I'd call it more of an accusation."

With a smile and a laugh to show that she was only teasing, Blake practically sauntered over to him, and had to remind herself to _slow down_ and _act natural for crying out loud. _

It wasn't like these guys didn't have their suspicions, because they did, but it was more of a personal preference for she and Penn as a couple. They wanted low key. They wanted privacy. And it seemed to be working well, for now.

Until one of them screws up. She says he will. He says she will. So far, it's been neither. And they plan to keep it that way.

When he finally saw her making her way over, he grinned. She smiled back. More subdued. Someone could still be watching. Who was she kidding, someone was always watching around here. No pun intended – xoxo.

She looked up at his face, spent some quality time with his eyes, as he seemed to be doing with hers. She blinked. Watched him do the same, realizing that she'd never seen a man with such beautiful eyelashes, and then she blushed, because if he knew she was thinking like that, he'd probably be so offended he'd have her guillotined.

Masculinity was a point of pride for him, but she happened to think that long eyelashes weren't just beautiful, they were sexy too, and _sexy _was very much a _masculine _adjective.

Then she blushed some more because she realized that he was probably scrutinizing the way she blushes, and probably calling it _beautiful_ or something else sappy andpoetic that was probably going to make her want to bury her head in a hole in the ground.

And he probably knew that too, which was why, right now, he was doing the courteous thing and refraining from saying his thoughts out loud. Hm. Just like she was. Funny how that is.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him so bad that it was physically hurting her not to.

"Hey you."

He took a breath. One that she could hear even through the commotion of the set. She could tell that he was fighting the same urge. And it made her smile. He smiled back.

"Hey you."

When the director called _action _not five minutes later, she really shouldn't have been surprised that he wasted no time in pressing her up against the brick wall of the school and kissing her like his life depended on it.

His hands were all over her. Her hair, her face, her sides, her hips, before settling squarely on her waist. Out of sheer sensation-seeking, because adrenaline was coursing violently through her faster than she could get a grip on it, _on_ _anything,_ she hiked her leg up and scratched her heel –what kind of seventeen-year-old girl wears stilettos to school, she'd never know - but right now, it was _really working_ for her, along his thigh.

She heard him moan quietly and she hoped it wouldn't get picked up by the mics, but she was glad it was working for him, too. _Note to self, Blake_, she thought with a smirk against his mouth, one she felt him reciprocate.

"_God damn it,__B,_" he rasped, his mouth now against her throat. His voice was gravelly, low. Almost guttural.

She squirmed a little and she felt his grip get tighter as he held her firmly in place. No. This was all wrong. There wasn't supposed to be so much tension. Not in this scene.

"It's _Serena_," she whispered into his ear, using her palms to push him back a little from her. "And we gotta tone it down."

He scoffed in response. "It's your fault for using that fucking stiletto."

There was a glimmer in his eyes.

Just then, the director called _cut _and they separated completely. To avoid unnecessary questions, they had to be extra cautious to follow their cues to a_ t_. And Penn had broken that rule. Granted, so did _she_, with that move.

She shrugged in response. Gave him an impish, little grin.

"I guess you could call it spur of the moment."

The sparkle in his eyes got darker. Almost velvet.

"Or I could just call you a_ fucking_ vixen."

She laughed. Her grin was turning into something more coquettish. "I prefer _tease_."

His chuckle was lustful, almost emboldened. "_Fuck you."_

She gave him her best pout. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait."

They were interrupted by the director calling out for scene change. She winked.

"Well I'm not in this scene, so I guess that's my cue, Humphrey."

He pulled her to him before she could get too far and growled lowly into her ear. "It's _Badgely _to you."

He kissed her cheek before letting her go, but not before telling her that he'd see her soon and that he _**would**_ _make it worth his wait._

All _that_ did was get tingles going up and down her spine.

Just in time with her next scene with the one, the only, Blair Cornelia Waldorf. Or as this side of the world knew her, Leighton Marissa Meester, and she could be one tough interrogator when she felt like it.

And when it came down to the _are-they-or-aren't-they_ with her and Penn, she _always_ had something to say. And Blake _knew _that she must look all hot and bothered from a mile off.

Perfect. This was_ just_ perfect.

* * *

An hour later, Penn walked up to her trailer door. He saw her watching through the window. Her eyebrow rose. Watching _him_. He grinned up at her. She smiled back, beckoning him with her hand. Not in a sexy way. Just plainly. Like_ 'hey Badgely, come on in.' _

Oh, wow, she_ really _had no idea. And that's the way he wanted it. He had to show her something. Something he wasn't sure she was going to be a huge fan of.

When he opened the door and stepped inside, she just let him pass her. Weird. But the second he closed the door, he noticed that her blinds were only open halfway, and when she pulled him close to her she skipped the hug altogether and tethered their mouths without any hint of a preamble.

"Hey you," she whispered against his lips, breathy and soft.

"Hey you," he said back, just as quietly, before kissing her once more and leaning back from her.

She blinked at him, smiled, and then carded her hand through his hair.

Always the hair with her. Not that he would deny that he liked it. It was something she did that instead of making him feel juvenile, it made him feel secure in what they were doing, trust in her and in_ them_. And he didn't do that easily.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

He fingered his phone through the pocket of his hoodie. For some reason now, he was hesitant in showing her. His face must have shown that too, because in five seconds flat her hands were on his face, fingertips tracing his jaw, and her eyes were wide, concerned.

Always concerned. Fucking hell. If he wasn't so transparent with his emotions around her, because _god forbid_ he's able to keep a handle on himself when she looks at him a certain way_, Jesus,_ when she looks at him _at all, _then maybe this wouldn't be _the thing_ that it was going to be now. He couldn't stop it. _Apparently._

"P? Are you okay?"

_P. _Ugh. The way it rolls off of her lips is so tender. Careful. Sweet. Sincere. And _stupid._

It was stupid because when she called him that, shortening his name to one, lame, insignificant, letter, in a way only she could without it sounding pretentious, his breath caught in his throat and words, any one word at all, ceased to exist.

Seeing as she called him that as often as she called him _babe_ or _baby _or_ honey_ or anything else considered a tortured cliché, he was thrown into silence quite often, especially since these days, and for the eleven years they'd known each other previously, preceding their intimate relationship, she favored _P _above the rest.

And honestly, for risk of sounding like a little bitch here, so did he. It made his heart go crazy and bit by bit, it become hers, and he was confident now that he was never getting it back. Had been for awhile. All she'd had to do was say four little words. Twelve letters. '_I love you, too__**.'**_ And his heart jumped ship.

"I need to show you something."

Opening Facebook, he scrolled a little to find the post he was looking for. Then he gave it to her. Held his breath.

It was a picture of the _Gossip Girl_ set. Taken earlier today. On the quad of Constance and St. Jude's. It wasn't like on the show, it was most definetly in-production quality. The cameras were around, the big, fluffy mics stuffed in shots, it wasn't very put-together. It was what the fans ate up though. Bits of behind-the-scenes. It made them feel more connected to the show, apparently. To them, the characters, and to them, as actors, whatever that even meant. Hollywood was crazy, but the fans of Hollywood, were even more so.

He'd recognized the scene instantly. Not that him and Blake making out up against the school building was hard to spot. It was practically the focal point of the entire picture. It looked just as intense in the photo as it had felt in the moment and that's what scared him. If he could see their chemistry radiating from something like this…

The caption was the real clincher. Fucking Leighton. Always screwing with them. Why she wouldn't just come out and ask If they were together was beyond him. No, instead, she had to go all _Gossip Girl_ (for lack of a better, or _less convenient_ metaphor) on their asses. Leighton was nothing if not deliberate, _clearly._

"_Who's over there in the corner locking lips? Is it S and D or is it P and B? We're not here to spoil your fun, but us Upper East Siders don't even know for sure. Happy guessing, xoxo." _

Surprising him, Blake laughed. Actually, genuinely, laughed.

"Oh my god," she said, as more of a statement than anything else.

"Do you _see_ this? Wow," she whistled through her lips, low, and could that be, _in appreciation?_ "We're looking good, P. _Sexy."_

It was definetly appreciative. No question now. Woah. It was not the reaction he had been readying himself for this past hour.

"You don't think people are going to start speculating?" he asked her, scratching at the back of his neck. He didn't know how to deal with this. He thought she'd be _so mad._

She shrugged. Which baffled him more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling at the tufts of hair there. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Opened them. She pressed her forehead to his.

She put her tongue to her cheek. Bit her lip.

"Let them."

Her eyes were shining, bright and clear with a rush of something he recognized from when he'd practically had her all to himself up against that brick wall. _Adrenaline._ Those beautiful fucking endorphins that showed him that she was _ready. Waiting._

In case he didn't get the point, which he _definetly did _because he was a man_,_ she closed the gap between them fully and conclusively, pushing him over onto the dinette. This was either going to be one of the best times either of them has _ever had, _or it was going to be really, not-_fucking_ \- comfortable. Pun absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten percent intended.

* * *

Two weeks later and the whole cast was in good spirits. The wrap party was that night at some dance club, and the last scene of the season had officially wrapped. They were free. For approximately six months. But it didn't matter because now they were on vacation time and he and Blake were free, _for real_. Free to do whatever they wanted. In some degree of public.

Ironically, the last scene was Serena and Dan's break-up, and so when everyone cheered in celebration after the concluding mark, Penn brought her close and kissed her in full view and with complete and utter disregard for their fellow castmates personal preferences for public displays of affection. He_ couldn't give a rat's ass._ Not now. He grinned against her mouth. Because people finally knew.

It felt better than he'd expected it to. There was no weird or awkward sort of anything within the cast and crew, everyone just accepted it, them, in stride and kept on carrying on. Actually, one of their executive producers thought it would be great promotion for the show – a _life imitates art_ sort of mojo – and encouraged both Penn and Blake on two separate occasions, with a bit more of an incessance then either of them preferred – _give at least eight months okay? Even if you two lose interest in each other, keep up the charade. It's good for the show, you know. Good for you two, too. Congrats._

Chase tapped him on the shoulder as he separated from her. "Are you coming tonight man?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

As he was talking to Chase, Penn looked discretely over at her, smiling to himself as he saw her clasping her hands together in front of her and shuffling subtlety from foot to foot, reminding him of a cutesy choir girl.

The only thing that somewhat killed the image was her makeup, which was darker than usual, and that – honestly, god-awful - yellow dress. Chase followed his gaze. Shit, he'd been staring too long. But could you blame him? This was _Blake Lively._ His girl.

_His girl._

To him though, she wasn't _Blake Lively_ – the woman every person with a pulse lusted after or wanted to be. She was _just _Blake. She was just Blakers. She was nothing special and she was also the _definition_ of the word all in the same breath. And she was _his_. Usually, he prided himself on not being the possessive guy, but now, he couldn't even try and stop it. _His girl._

Smiling, he slid an arm around her waist, hugging her to his side. She willingly leaned in, putting her head on his shoulder for a second before straightening up again.

"Yeah, we'll definetly be there. It's going to be a good time."

Penn chuckled, and as Ed passed them, saying, _"you're telling me,"_ on his way by, he felt it turn into a full-blown laugh, mingling delicately with Blake's bright, cornflower giggle, that matched her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hey! This might not be a one-shot depending on the reviews but it's a post-season 6, post the show's end, fic that takes place 3 years after the five year time jump at the end of New York, I Love You, XOXO. So in total, eight years have passed. Please tell me what you think! (If the fandom is still somewhat alive/revivable and Serena x Dan and Chuck x Blair shippers are alive and well). _**

* * *

"Hey, B! Sorry I'm late. I – uh – got held up."

Blair met the woman in the entrance way and embraced her in a long, tight, hug.

"That's okay. We all do at some point or another."

When they broke apart after a minute, she just looked at her.

A thinly veiled grin on her lips, hair in a messy topknot that was a little young for them now, but yet, on her it looked somehow just the right age, the pallor of her face a bit whiter than usual, but still, she radiated that charm, that bright aura, ubiquitously known as _Serena van der Woodsen_, that adolescent and young adult Blair Waldorf was forever envious of.

However, with that said, as an adult with a husband and raising two children,_ this_ Blair could take it in stride, and could even see what everyone else must have back then, and still, how and why Humphrey is so completely, stupidly, enamoured with her.

Because so was she.

Speaking of _Humphrey_…

"He was good today. Ate his lima beans," Blair grinned conspiringly at her. "No problems. Always an angel, that boy."

Serena smiled at her, a big, sloping, but faintly secretive smile. She's known the woman long enough to spot slight, subtle changes in demeanor a mile away.

"Dan and I – we have some news." She leaned in a little bit closer, and Blair had to strain a little to hear her whisper. "I'm pregnant."

Going from being proud of herself just as quickly to somewhat disappointed, because how she didn't think about it earlier was a mystery – the pale face, messy hair, getting held up (**obviously** code for _taking a pregnancy test) _she had to fight to keep in her sigh.

"Oh my god, that's amazing, S!" she said instead, a little louder than Serena herself had been, and she was rebuffed slightly with a shush.

"I haven't told Dan yet. You're the only one that knows. So, keep it quiet, okay?"

Blair didn't have time to sulk about being shushed (not that she was going to or anything) because _she _was the only other person, besides the woman herself, who knew that Serena was pregnant. And that was huge. It meant almost everything to her. She guiltily thought about Henry and Amelia and Chuck and rethought. It meant a _substantial amount_ to her. Nothing would ever mean more than her family.

Just then, as Blair was separating from yet another hug, this time celebratory, a little voice broke into her thoughts. And it made her think about Humphrey again, Humphrey and Serena, and their sweet, growing, family.

"Auntie B, Auntie B! Is Mommy here yet?"

Blair turned and came face to face with a little boy, standing at about two foot four, with an abundance of dark curly hair and an alarmingly sharp jawline for a toddler, both reminiscent of his father, but then there were those eyes, imploring her now with a mix of excitement and skepticism, a look so typical of Humphrey, actually, but the real allure came from the eyes themselves. Long, dark, wispy lashes, like gossamer, and a blue color she was almost ready to call beautiful. They were his momma's eyes, _beautiful_ and fair.

Sometimes, given that the cadence of this little boy's voice is childish and not yet masculine, Blair, after a glass of wine or two, would sometimes be forced to do a double take. Her son sounded so much like her, and those _eyes_…sometimes the resemblance was uncanny, and other times, she saw them both in him, and thanked every higher power things worked out the way they did for the four of them, because, _holy hell_, did her best friend and Humphrey make adorable babies.

Not that hers and Chuck's weren't just as gorgeous, because they were, but, as it always was, there was something about Serena, and alike, her babies.

Her eyes flitted from the little boy standing directly in front of her, to Serena behind her, with that same secret grin on her face for now a different reason, and the sweet, endearing swell peaking out from under her top. Or maybe Blair was just imagining things. Probably.

"Oh, Nolan, you know, I'm not sure if you're Mommy's here yet or not, do you want me to look for her, for you?"

Blair almost laughed to herself but managed to keep it at bay, just like Serena seemed to be doing, if the squeeze of her shoulder was any indication.

Nolan nodded. "Can you? Please?"

For a three-year-old, Blair was always surprised at how clearly he already spoke. Or maybe she shouldn't be. The little up-and-coming Ernest Hemmingway.

Blair discreetly moved out of the way and pretended to look behind her, towards the front door, and to his credit, it only took maybe one second for Nolan to spot Serena.

"Mommy!" he launched himself into her arms and snuggled himself against her chest. Serena laughed in response, that pretty, tinkling laugh, and carded her hands through his curls and down his back.

"Hey babe! How's my little man!?"

Not to be perverse, but it was suddenly reminding Blair of how she held Dan so tight like that when he found out his next novel was at the top of the New York Times Best Seller list during Thanksgiving dinner last year, note the irony of the holiday.

The same kiss to his head, less the same on other places, she noted, watching as Serena chastely kissed her son's lips before letting him leave her arms. It was then, when she squeezed his tiny, little shoulders, Blair also noticed that even the rings matched. Which, admittedly, was a stupid thing to notice, so she focused on the kiss instead.

Blair never liked the idea of kissing her children on the mouth. And she always had to fight the urge to cringe when Serena or Dan would do it to their son. Never to her own kids, thank god, she'd draw the line there, if they ever made a move to try it, but they hadn't, so Blair and Chuck both agreed, and kept a standard rule of cheek-kissing only amongst their family.

"Were you a good boy for Auntie B?"

Nolan grinned cheekily at her. "I always am, Mommy!"

Serena laughed, then her expression became a little more serious.

"Nolan Daniel Humphrey, if you're lying to me mister, I'll know, because Auntie B will tell me."

And that was another thing. Giving their son his father's name for a middle name. Blair believed in individuality, in every aspect of her children, and that included names, the fact that it's a middle one, didn't matter. Serena was also fond in using both his first and middle names in varying situations, which irked her a little more than it should.

Suddenly, Blair heard a crash from further inside the house and sighed. Her little monster was in Kindergarten and her second little monster was starting Pre-K this year. Honestly, trouble found them just as often as they found trouble. Could be the Bass gene.

"He was great, S, really. Unlike my little goobers."

"I told you, Mommy! I was good!"

Serena laughed. "Go. Be a parent. I gotta get this little boy of mine home and bathed, then ready for my evening in with that husband of mine."

She winked subtly before seeing herself and Nolan out, with Nolan giving her a small wave with the hand not holding his mom's.

Blair sighed again after she heard the dulcet click of the front door behind her.

"Amelia Regan and Henry Harold Waldorf-Bass! What are you two getting into now!?"

As Blair marched into their living room in complete, uninterrupted Mommy-mode, she realized two things: just how much of a hypocrite she was being right now, and that she didn't have the time to worry about it.

…

"Hey baby?" Serena called out, dropping her son's hand and watching him clamber around, veering towards the kitchen at top speed as he heard his dad's voice.

"In the kitchen, babe," Dan replied and by the time she made it into the doorway, she was watching him tightly hug their son close to him, peppering his cheeks with kisses and sending him into a tailspin, his laughter bright and piddling.

"What's up, little man? What'd you get up to today at Auntie B's and Uncle Chuck's hm? Did you play with Henry and Meels?"

Serena absolutely loved how he talked to their little boy. He was so interactive, so animated, just as in love with Nolan as he was with her, differently, of course, but also just the same.

It was the sweetest, cutest, thing, and in the eyes of the law, it made him one thousand times more attractive than he'd ever been. Fatherhood looked _oh so sexy_ on Dan Humphrey.

He was looking at her with this stupid whipped, adoring expression on his face and her baby was giving her a peek at those sweet, baby, dimples as he grinned at her and she wanted to tell him, tell them, so,_ freaking_ bad. But she held off. It had to be the right moment.

But then Nolan called her _Mommy _with this small, angelic, little voice, and Dan was just giving her this _look, _smiling with what felt to her like every bone in his body, and left a gentle kiss into her hair as he passed off their son to her, and she thought then that the 'right moment' could go screw itself.

"I'm pregnant."

She nuzzled her face in Nolan's curls, taking a deep breath of something called _blue raspberry,_ the no-tears shampoo he'd requested at the store the other day because the bottle was shaped like a shark. She smiled against the side of his head, pursing her lips as she left a kiss there. Then another. And another.

Her little boy started giggling up a storm, and she couldn't help it, she laughed too. She didn't even notice that Dan took Nolan from her arms and put him down on the floor until she felt his lips against hers, and his hands gripping her hips.

"You're what?" He whispered against her mouth, his breath warm and a tinge sweet. There was a smile in his voice. He was happy_. So_ happy. "Say it again."

Serena giggled and bit gently on the lobe of his ear. "I'm pregnant."

Dan sighed contentedly. Kissed her cheek. "Again."

"I'm pregnant."

He leaned over and caught her mouth this time, leaving a chaste, gentle kiss there.

"Again."

"What!? Dan I – "

"Just say it again." He grinned crookedly at her. "Please."

And she may not have been so quick to oblige if that smile of his wasn't so _hot._ She leaned in as close as she could to him without touching, then placed her palm against his chest and stared up at him, silent for a second.

Then– "_I'm pregnant."_

She was amused. This was so stupid. He'd heard her the first time, as he did the second, and the third _and_ the _fourth freaking time. _What was the definition of insanity again? This was madness. As much as she loved it.

Serena grinned up at him, pursing her lips. "I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, I'm pregnant, I'm – "

Surprising her and making her squeal, which definetly alerted their toddler, who has been happily mucking around with the handle of one of their bottom cupboards, Dan picked her up and twirled her around, and she thought back to when they were teenagers again, hopelessly in love and not a care in the world to be found.

"You're pregnant! She's pregnant!"

Serena's gaze flitted towards the open window, sure their neighbors, and those halfway down the block could hear him. And then she blurted something before she could stop herself, or even think about it.

"Sh! What if Gossip Girl hears you!?"

Immediately, she blushed and buried her face into the crook of his shoulder. "Oh my god."

Dan just chuckled. "Baby, Gossip Girl is dead, remember? Has been for almost eight years now? And technically, she is me, so, unless you're worried about me hearing _myself,_ or that I'm going to divulge this information to the whole world – and you're not wrong – "

Serena laughed and hit his shoulder. She ran her hand gently across the non-existent bump of her belly. Was it too early to start blaming pregnancy brain?

Dan's gaze followed her, and his hand joined her there. "I hadn't realized pregnancy brain started so early."

She laughed again. _Wow_, did she love this man.

"I love you."

Dan gave a semblance of a chuckle, but it was more of a snort. Before she could ask herself if he was mocking her or not, he answered for her.

"I love you too. So much."

"Mommy? Daddy?"

Both Serena and Dan looked down at their son there on the floor, his thumb circling his lips. Dan reached down and picked him up, squeezing the chubby skin behind his knees which made him smile wide, his teeth and all.

She leaned over and ruffled his curls with her fingertips, carding them through his hair and down the back of his head. Then, she took him from her husband and held him close.

"Sweet boy," she began softly, nearly cooing, waiting for Dan to give her the go-ahead. He nodded softly, imperceptibly almost, at her, with an encouraging smile.

So, she pressed forward, not wanting to ruin the momentum. "Mommy's pregnant. Which means that inside my tummy…"

She grabbed his little hand in hers, guiding it to a spot around her belly button, feeling his hand, warm and soft, through the thin material of her shirt. "There's a baby. Right there. Right where your hand is."

Dan bent over and kissed Nolan's knuckles, putting his hand overtop. "And that baby, my little man, is your sister. Or your brother."

Nolan's eyes got wide. His mouth opened slightly. He looked at his dad, and then to her. "Like cousin Henry and cousin Amelia?"

Serena smiled at the association. That boy sure did love his cousins. Thankfully. Otherwise, she wasn't sure what she and Blair would have done.

"Exactly like them, sweetheart. Does that make you happy?"

Nolan's eyes shone. A sweet, beautiful, blue. And she prayed that this next baby has Dan's eyes. It was only fair, after all.

Besides, in her opinion, next to Nolan of course, which said _nothing _about vanity, Dan Humphrey had the most attractive, humble eyes out of anyone she's ever known. They were the eyes that made her fall in love and have kept her in the lurch ever since.

"Hm?" Dan asked him, tickling under his chin. "What do you say?"

After another rousing minute of loud, bursting giggles, Nolan caught his breath and answered, squeezing a fist of her hair in the process. "Yes!"

She and Dan laughed in response, and she gave a smack inducing kiss to his cheek as she gently took his fingers from the knot they'd created in her hair. That was going to take some conditioning tomorrow morning to get out. Not that it mattered right now.

…

Blair watched her best friend walk towards her down the street, the wind tousling her hair and no doubt cooling the coffees she held in each hand – one decaf of course.

Not that anybody needed another reminder that the woman was pregnant. As she was in high-school, she is a walking billboard, only now instead of for _Marc Jacobs_ or _Alice and Olivia_, it was for _Bonnie Jean_ or _Oshkosh._

She was wearing a slightly flashy fuscha maternity dress that went just below her knees and framed her bump perfectly – carrying high and somehow still boasting that wonderful glow, letting the secret out ever so modestly – '_it's a girl and I'm still gorgeous! Would you look at that?'_

"Hey Auntie B," Serena smirked at her and caressed her belly a few times, inviting her to do the same.

She did. Who was she to refuse loving on baby bumps? They were an aesthetic all on their own, especially when said bump belonged to Serena van der Woodsen.

The myth about baby girls stealing their Momma's beauty is one-hundred percent true. Ninety-nine where her best friend was concerned.

Blair remembered, and she also had photo evidence to prove it, that she looked like an absolute _beast_ when she was pregnant with Amelia. Chuck would deny it, he always did, told her and everybody else that, _on the contrary, you are the beauty in this scenario, _but unlike every other time before and since, she was not so quick to believe him. In fact, she didn't believe him at all.

But not Serena. No, right now, pregnant with her own baby girl, who has not yet been named and goes by _Baby Girl Humphrey_ \- which is a nickname that is both apt and cringe-worthy at the same time, Serena looks like an absolute goddess. A Belle reincarnate if you will, to go with the previous analogy.

"You're beautiful," is all that came out of her mouth in that second, probably because she was distracted, _and not at all _jealous, and not to her surprise, Serena just laughed.

Always modest this girl, and it probably had something to do with the fact that she shacked up with Humphrey in the tenth grade. No, it definitely did.

"Oh hush, you. Don't sell yourself short like that, love._ You're _even more beautiful."

_Ugh. 'Love.'_ Jenny Humphrey probably taught her that one. Her insipid sister-in-law.

Okay, so she wasn't _insipid,_ but she was what some may call a _fashion faux pau_ in her own right – all that dark makeup and much too pale skin with the white-blonde hair. Granted, and Blair hated to admit this, Little J has grown up a lot over the past eight years. She could be tolerated. Sometimes, even liked. She just needed to keep those Londoner terms of endearment _in _London.

_And patronizing much, S? _But still, as patronizing as it may or may not have been, it was the upmost compliment, and Blair still found her cheeks rouging, a soft blush against the sun's reflection slightly shadowing her face.

"Shut up," she responded quietly, adding, "With Meels, I looked like a freaking beached whale dying of sunstroke, but S, Baby Girl Humphrey looks _so good_ on you. I thought baby girls were supposed to_ take_ your beauty, not give you more of it."

Serena laughed again. Then shrugged. Her body was just as tiny as it was pre-Baby Girl Humphrey, except for, well, her midsection, which was not at all shy in its display. _Ugh. Baby Girl Humphrey. That was just so…she loved those two to death, really, she did, but what a freaking cliché, Daniel, don't you know better than that, two-time best-selling author? _

When Serena told her a few months or so in that they still hadn't settled on a name, and that they were just calling her 'Baby Girl Humphrey' Blair had fought with the urge to change her mind.

The urge only lost when Serena pointed out, in an annoyingly perfectly-timed moment, that when Blair was pregnant with her daughter, she and Chuck called her Peanut. Blair would have argued that she'd only went along with it because Chuck liked it, but then she would be a hypocrite and so, she stayed silent. Sort of.

What she'd actually done was confront her about it in front of her husband, and, well Humphrey being Humphrey, he got quite defensive of both his choice in nickname and literally Serena herself, always, and it really didn't go so well. So, to Blair's dismay, Baby Girl Humphrey stayed, and still, seven months in and they don't have a name. _Ugh. So disorganized._

Blair had her children's names picked out by the time she was fourteen. Not Serena. She had no plan, no wedding designed, no children's names, nothing. Honestly, there were nights that Blair wasn't sure Serena would even live long enough to see those things come to fruition, as morbid as that might be.

But then she went to boarding school, came back, met Humphrey and everything changed for her. _She, who was blonde and beautiful and ruled the school and the lame, tortured outsider. _While it sounds like a cliché, Blair, Chuck and the rest of them, especially the couple in question, could vouch that no, it's very much not one.

Suddenly, breaking her momentarily out of her thoughts, was the ringing of a cellphone. Given that it was obnoxiously blaring _You Are My Sunshine _– actually, Blair had no idea that song could be described using the words _obnoxious_ and _blaring_ yet, here they are, she knew that it wasn't hers.

She watched as Serena fumbled around in her stupidly big purse for her phone, quickly eclipsing the song upon answering with a dopey grin on her face. It was obvious who was on the other line. They didn't even have to speak. Those two are still so freaking moony for each other it's sick. At least she and Chuck were dignified about it.

"Hey Reena, how you holding up? Baby Girl Humphrey still kicking up a storm?"

Serena sighed. That disgusting, love-struck expression still woven deeply into her features. Absently, she put a palm against her belly and rubbed circles there.

"Yeah. I swear she's going to be a ballet dancer, our little Angelina Ballerina doing pirouettes in my womb like it's her own personal studio."

_Not with Humphrey's two left feet,_ Blair couldn't help but think, and then Serena was laughing at Dan's reply, which nearly matched exactly. It made her smile.

"I just called to say that_ somebody_ wanted to say goodnight before their nap."

"Okay, put him on please,"

Serena bit her lip and Blair could hear the sappy exchange between mother and son through the speaker, Nolan's voice chalky with impending sleep, but still unbelievably adorable.

"I love you, little man. Now, you go rest for a little bit okay and I'll be home when you wake up. I promise."

Then Dan was back on the line a moment later, his breath slightly heavier than it had been before.

"Okay. He's down. Thanks for doing that. You know it means a lot to him and I know you're having some girl-time with Blair so – "

"Oh my god, baby, he's my son. I'll stop whatever I'm doing with whomever I'm with, any time, for whatever reason, for him. You know that. Same goes for you."

"I know…and Reena?"

Blair could practically feel Dan swooning through the phone. And there's that lip bite again. Serena turned into such a freaking sap around him, it was both amusing and embarrassing.

"Yeah babe?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll be home in a couple hours. I'm sure you two can last without me until then."

"Hm…that's debatable."

More giggling and then finally, Serena hung up the phone and shoved it somewhere back into her purse. The last thing reminiscent of the conversation is that beaming smile that is bound to never leave her face. She swore.

It took awhile to get used to, the two of them, together, like that. Seriously. As much as it really grinded her gears to say it, Serena and Dan were pretty cute. And it always, ever since they were teenagers, made her want to vomit.

Ugh. Especially that pet-name. _Reena. _Like what – she is _so not_ **that **girl. Or she _wasn't,_ before she started to seem serious with Dan. He's been the only one to ever call her that, and probably would be, too, forever, because Blair found it horrendous. Not that she'd ever say as such…again.

It was the first time he had called Serena that in her presence and it thoroughly confused and disgusted her. It made her feel like it should be_ her_ vomiting into the bathtub upstairs, not Serena. But alas.

…

_This time, Blair was genuinely worried for her best friend. The girl was in bad shape. Really bad shape. _

_On a scale of that horrid ninth grade school-functioned Outdoor Ed weekend, where the chaperones walked around all high and mighty on booze patrol (a trip on which she wished she was not one-hundred percent sober, for a myriad of reasons that included bugs and hiking), to being passed out with dried vomit on her dress and hair and mouth, sprawled out on the floor of the elevator at 3AM - when Blair had found her, after much searching, she'd likely taken five or six rides all the way up to the penthouse and all the way back down to the lobby - she was probably somewhere way, way, way, surpassed that. _

_It was scary, seeing her so out of it like that. Sure, she'd seen the girl on drugs before, your run of the mill cocaine, ecstasy, but this was different. Almost like an outer-body thing, but somehow, Serena remembered everything she did that night. It was like a superpower. Her inebriated brain was something abnormal. _

_Yet, there was something she wouldn't tell them. Tell her. And when Dan came in, all up on his high horse, demanding to see his girlfriend, but not without a quip in what seemed to be the standard Humphrey fashion, Blair had hope. Maybe she'd confide in him. Lonely Boy, for god knows what reason, seemed pretty important to her, after all. _

_Blair watched from the sidelines as Serena pulled Dan by the shirt away from the group. She was worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth and her expression was anxious. _

_Serena didn't even look__** this **__sick when she had to admit to Lily that she broke that heirloom vase when she was eight; or when she was caught in her bedroom with Danny Zuko (well, not John Travolta, obviously), this was Thomas, and he was the lead in the school play their junior year, and Serena's first boyfriend that lasted longer than a month – clearly, the girl had a thing for the non-elite. _

_This was a whole new level. Crap. _

_Dan put his palm against her cheek, allowing his fingertips to rest on her cheekbone before slowly gliding down, one by one. Even Blair could see that it was a gesture meant to sooth, and she had a feeling it would have worked too, if Serena didn't seem so far away._

_She was barely looking at him. The rest of her was though, was zeroed into his touch like she never has been with any other person before, besides maybe her in that way girls were sometimes. _

_Dan sighed, putting his fingertips against her temple now, moving towards her hairline and then his hand was in her hair in that quiet __**everything is going to be alright, you're safe now, **__intimacy, the kind that didn't speak in the language of double entendre, only comfort. _

_Finally, she felt brave enough, it seemed, to meet his eyes and like Blair, Chuck and Nate behind her, were waiting with bated breaths for something to happen. Anything. Anything at all that could get them closer to the truth. To Serena coming clean. _

"_Reena," he whispered to her, leaned in closer to her ear. "Reena, please tell me, tell me please, what happened last night? I know you're scared, but you have to tell me." _

_He leaned back from her. Squeezed her hands with his. "Please?" _

_Serena sighed. It was more of a mewl, actually, and then she spoke. Whispered. _

"_Dan I – " _

_Then stopped. Took a deep breath. Then another. And another. _

_Blair leaned over and whispered into Chuck's ear. "Reena? Are you kidding me? That is a – " _

"_Absolutely terrible pet-name? Yeah. Yeah it is." _

_Blair couldn't help it. She snickered. Maybe snorted a little. It had been a long night. They were clearly all hysterical. Especially Serena if she lets Lonely Boy call her that. _

_And by the glare shot her way, it was safe to say that she was actually __**certifiably insane**__, because, could it be that she actually __**enjoys**__ when he calls her that? Does it give her butterflies and heart palpitations? Gross. She wasn't sleeping tonight. Or ever. _

"_Blair are you kidding? Could you maybe grow up please?" _

_Oh god. She said that out loud, didn't she? _

"_What my boyfriend wants to call me is none of your concern, nor should it prevent you from losing any of your beauty sleep, princess." _

_Yep. She did. Jesus, Waldorf, smart move._

…

"Hey B?"

Serena touched her shoulder lightly, carefully, as though she weren't sure if that was something she should be doing.

"Are you okay? You seemed a little space-y there."

Blair shook her head, distancing herself from the memory and nodded. "Mhm. Just thinking."

Serena arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? About what?"

Blair looked from Serena's eyes, which were now expressing an annoying amount of concern – not only did Humphrey make her modest, he also made her stupidly attuned to people's feelings that weren't her own, to the pavement.

It was annoying as much as it was incredibly sweet, especially where she was concerned. Waldorfs did not do _empathy. _

"Oh, you know. Just the girls. Our girls. Growing up together with only a couple years between them."

Blair was also not one for nostalgia – this as an exception- but apparently, her best friend now was. Another _Humphrey side-effect_. She smiled at Blair with a soft rumination and stroked her bump affectionately.

"They'll be just like us. Baby Girl Humphrey won't let a couple years get in the way of a lifelong friendship. If she's anything like me, she'll hold her own with the best of them."

Blair grinned. "She's a van der Woodsen. She's destined to come out on top. It's basically a birthright."

Serena shook her head, but Blair wasn't sure if she agreed with her or if she was refuting her. She didn't say anything that would tell her if it was one way or the other, but the smirk on her face did. It was understated, but it was there. That Humphrey modesty only took her so far.

Blair had a feeling it would only take her daughter just as far as it took her mother. Not that Blair was the trivial teenager she was once was, and not that Serena was the flight risk she had been, but still, she thought _Amelia Waldorf-Bass better watch out._

Because even though she stood a better chance than Blair herself ever did, with her Daddy's genes on her side, van der Woodsen's were still van der Woodsen's, and the light that surrounded them would always blind those standing too close to it. Even eight years later.

…

On the day of September seventh, there were so many tears. Momma cried, Daddy cried, Auntie B cried and even Uncle Chuck shed a few tears, normally too proud and too stoic to show any real emotion in public.

But this was different, wasn't it? These people gathered in this hospital wing, having just heard the news from Dan – who was red in the face but somehow just as pale – that their baby girl was born, were _family._ And Blair was proud of that fact. It wasn't fair to take anything away from her best friend's babies because they were half Humphrey. She loved them just the same as if they were half anything else. Baizen would have been debatable, but luckily nothing serious had ever come of that.

In truth, one that she was able to come to terms with only years later, when she watched her best friend in a screaming mess of _yes_ and_ tears_ and_ laughter_ pull her sweet sap of boyfriend off of his knee and get engaged, Blair had loved Humphrey once. _Dan._ She did. But it was just a matter of loving someone else more. For him, it was Serena, and for her, it was Chuck.

Both of these relationships were so riddled with so much _back-and-forth and love-me-love-me-nots_ that they were almost toxic. And at times, they probably were. But as it was, nothing worth having never comes easy, and while that itself was a large pill to swallow, Blair eventually understood, and knew then that while giving in came at a price, it also came with an even bigger pay off. Fighting soon became wasted energy. For all of them.

None of the fight mattered now. Not when Blair stared into those dark brown eyes that went on for miles, making her feel lightheaded and dizzy as though they were an optical illusion. It nearly scared her because physically, through and through, they were Dan's eyes, but that wasn't what held her so captivated. She knew that.

It was something in their expression, even though consciously as a newborn this baby was not capable of emotive expression beyond basic instinctual human emotions. Despite that, there was something there in her eyes that was so ubiquitously_ Serena_ that it managed to take her breath away.

Even looking at her own children, she had never felt such enrapture. Sure, that was probably a stupid thing to think, to feel, but Serena made her stupid sometimes. Dumbfounded. Because how could one person be so_ uniquely_ stunning? And now her daughter had that too.

"Her name's Kaia," came Serena's voice suddenly, and startling her from her thoughts. It was practically a whisper, carrying exhaustion in the form of a raspy accent that somehow sounded even more posh than her voice normally.

"Kaia Sophia," Dan said then, just as quiet, as he kissed both the foreheads of his wife and newborn daughter, who laid sleepily on her mother's chest.

"That's beautiful," Blair breathed out, blinking finally, turning her attention from Baby Girl Humphrey – from _Kaia_ – and to her best friend, who smiled gently at her. "Just like her."

"Thanks B. And thanks for being here," she squeezed Blair's hand with a bit more force than she'd been expecting, but still, Blair squeezed back. "I love you."

I love you too, S. So much."

Serena just smiled.

…

Blair stood behind the Humphreys kitchen island – the _Humphreys _– they'd been that, all four of them, for twelve years now, Serena and Dan for even longer, because even throughout their engagement, they were calling themselves_ 'the Humphrey's _if only to make Lily van der Woodsen shake in her boots a little bit.

She smiled at the memory. She'd even went along with it, too. To see Lily's face blanch like that, especially because things were still so awkward with Rufus until about three months into their engagement, was absolutely priceless and she'd do it again, no hesitation.

Besides, after what she's said to and about Dan over the years, she figured she owed him this much, to indulge in his eighth grade-boy fantasy that somewhere along the way became her best friend's, too.

Presently, Blair was busying herself with helping prepare some sort of fancy pie with custard in the middle for Eric's homecoming from Australia, where he'd spent the better part of two years studying history – a useless subject, in her opinion – abroad.

During his stay, he met a sweet Australian boy with a sultry accent that reminded Blair of a gigolo. Now, if she said that to Serena, and she _has_, the response would be and _was_ laughter, but if she ever said that to her brother, well, the glare he would shoot Blair might as well have the power to force her out the penthouse door and straight down the elevator shaft.

Little Eric van-der-Woodsen has got himself a backbone. Must have been Jenny Humphrey's doing. Little J was a spitfire when she needed to be, and Blair knew that firsthand.

A lot like her niece, actually. Little J and Little K. Both forces to be reckoned with, if Blair was being honest. Which she was. It was this new thing she was trying out. And it could be a _bitch._

"B? How much evaporated milk?"

Blair looked to her right at Serena, who was bent over a mixing bowl, hovering a measuring cup above it. She wore a cute little apron that looked like it was something straight out of _Chatelaine_, tied around her waist and her hair was swept up into a ponytail, which for some reason gave her June Cleaver vibes more than it did usually.

"Uh – "

She thumbed towards the bottom of the page. "One cup."

It probably had something to do with the stupid apron that looked more like a doily, but it was her grandmother's once upon a time and so as it went, Serena _actually_ wore it, as if she wouldn't have been _caught dead_ in something like that before.

Sentimentality. Another Humphrey side-effect. She smirked. To hide both her genuine smile and her grimace.

"You're sure?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Of course, I'm sure, S. It's right here on the page. And I can read perfectly well, thank you very much."

Serena laughed. And Blair nearly did too. How a forty-two-year-old woman can still manage to laugh like a preschooler, she'd never know. It must be a talent of some sort. One she was nearly envious of. _Nearly._ Because it was dainty and adorable and won people over without her even trying.

An identical giggle pierced through the sudden – only seconds - of silence left behind in the wake of Serena's laughter. It made Blair turn her head towards the sound. She was surprised when Serena did, too. Clearly, even _she _wasn't immune to the practically _magnetic _appeal it held. For some reason, that satisfied Blair, and definetly more than it should have.

"Little K, how's it going?" Blair asked her niece, just as she saw her own daughter trailing behind a pace or two.

Amelia looked indifferent to the whole scene in front of her, at first, but Blair could see it in her eyes – a lovely, piercing hazel, were dimmed slightly.

And suddenly, the satisfaction she'd had mere seconds ago dissipated, because of _course,_ that laugh had the power to not only turn heads, but to also take charge, but in this stupid, non-deliberate kind of way that suddenly made her beauty demure and striking all at once. There was a reason that laugh took breaths away. It was overwhelming. _Serena_ was overwhelming.

"Great, Auntie B. Hey mom, is it alright if Nolan drives us to the mall? Meels and I have to get new dresses for the eighth-grade induction party this weekend. Well, Meels doesn't, but I do."

Amelia shrugged. "I could always use a new dress though. I wouldn't dare cycle through the same outfit twice, at least in the same month."

Blair smiled to herself. _And a Waldorf, she is._

Baby Girl Humphrey hadn't so much lived up to her name as much as she _embodied _it. With dark features and fair skin, and cheekbones so sharp you could slice your finger, Kaia looked so much like her father, with, of course, a delicate femininity to her features; so as not to be confused for her brother, which was nearly impossible seeing as every bit of that boy oozed van der Woodsen – looks and charm.

Just like every bit of their son that was his father, resided mostly on the inside, every bit of Baby Girl Humphrey that was her mother shined through in idiosyncrasies that had at one time only belonged to Serena van der Woodsen. That laugh. That smile. The soft way she throws back her head when someone's got her laughing _for real. _

"Sure, babe. Just make sure you're back by five, okay? Uncle Eric would love to see you both. _All of you."_

It was a hasty correction, and Blair hoped that Amelia hadn't noticed, but she was half Bass and half Waldorf, so she obviously noticed, and chose not to feed into it, to not let it get to her. _Smart girl. _

Kaia nodded, moving to wrap her mom in a tight hug. Then moved on to Blair. The girl gave those Humphrey bear hugs well. Then she was gone, before Blair even had much of a chance to reciprocate, in a warm flurry of vanilla sugar and equally sweet hairspray.

They were growing up way too fast. Kaia was _twelve going on twenty._ The look Serena gave her before returning to the cookbook open in front of her and the ingredients on the table spoke the same sentiment. It was definitely true, then.

Already, their babies were spreading their wings, and there was nothing neither of them could do about it – except wait by the nest and swoop down to catch them when they fall.

* * *

_**I didn't know where to end it...whatever that was - a look into their future(s) together, but figured this was as good a place as any. I might continue to delve further into their world, and the world of Kaia and Amelia as Upper East Siders specifically, feat Nolan and Henry from time to time. Who knows? We'll see. xoxo. **_


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note: Even though nobody reviewed I wrote this. I had the idea in my head anyway. I still wanted to explore Kaia Humphrey (_**Oh, and because I love Jenny Humphrey and hated that they just sort of disposed of her) **_even if nobody else cared if I did or not. If you do, show me! If not, well, okay. But like I said - I think this is a dead fandom. This is for myself and also for those people who did review - and thank you for those! I'll probably keep writing just for you! Maybe. I don't know. Let me know what you think! xoxo. _**

* * *

The pounding music echoed and was loud,_ too loud_, and Kaia held her head in her hands for a moment, squeezing her temples, and took three deep breaths. Her mother called it _'the rule of threes.' _

After three of anything – nights sleep, _deep breaths,_ or dirty martinis (her dad gave her a look for that particular comment, one she had laughed at), everything can, and will, be seen in a new light, with a cleared head (she had inquired about that logic where martinis were involved, but her mom just jokingly swatted her away with a laugh).

Right now, though, in a house she barely recognized anymore, her vision blurring and her thoughts swimming, Kaia prayed that the rule of three would be her salvation. That was why, in the stupid hours of the morning, surrounded by raucous,_ very _drunk boys, pushing and shoving each other in an effort to see who could get as close to the hem of her skirt as possible, the world beyond her stopped. _In…out. In…out. In…out._

When she opened her eyes and pushed through the shrinking crowd of booze-breathed boys and girls with saccharine perfumes that nearly overpowered the permeating smell of hard liquor and fruity drinks, she finally made it into the kitchen with a plan. She slipped out through the back door into the homeowners spacious backyard, narrowly avoiding someone spilling on her and the aggressive, almost suffocating scent of marijuana.

"Hey baby," someone whispered lowly into her ear, their breath hot and heavy, and not at all enticing. _Ugh._ She had figured she'd have a good shot at being alone out here. Not so much.

"You look like you could use a drink. You seem tense."

Rolling her eyes, Kaia pulled her phone from her purse that was slung over her side – her dad teased her all the time: _"if her head's not screwed on tight, she'd lose that, too."_ He was such a _dad._ She grimaced. _Who was going to kill her._

She dialed and took another deep breath.

Preparing herself. Hoping she wouldn't sound so drunk on the phone. She nearly cringed when she was talking to Amelia earlier. The slippery tone of her voice and the bubbly laugh so many people commented on, weirdly unprompted, was much louder, bolder, almost _attention-seeking._

And Kaia knew herself well enough to know, and she would never, ever tell her parents this, that when she got drunk, she was the center of attention. _On purpose,_ this time.

Nobody picked up.

Now that she thought about it, maybe that's why Amelia left her in search of another crowd. It wasn't their age that sometimes got the best of their friendship, with Amelia being almost eighteen, it was that _van der Woodsen side_ of her – she didn't mean for it to be, but it was _gravitating._ And it was also the breeding ground for jealousy.

She dialed again.

This wasn't Kaia's opinion at first, she'd only adapted it from hearing hushed, careful conversations between her mother and Aunt Blair, but as she got older, grew into the angular set of her features, learned how to use makeup and wear clothes that properly accentuated her calves and chest, she saw it too.

And again.

As much as it was a luxury, being a van der Woodsen was also a curse. It was _something else._ She liked to think that her _Humphrey side_ did a good job at keeping it in check, but when she was drunk, and not in complete control in the way that she feels comfortable, all bets were off.

Finally, on the fourth time, a voice came on the other end of the line. Unlike the cheery, suave voice of her recorded message, this voice was befogged with sleep and the chalky, slightly discombobulated, accent of melatonin.

"Aunt Jenny? Did I wake you?"

"Mhm…oh, no, not at all, honey."

_Lie._ But Kaia pressed on. She had to, if she had any hope of making it home tonight in time for curfew.

"Kai? What's wrong? It's nearly one AM. Are you okay? Where are you?"

Kaia bit her tongue. _Thanks for reminding me of my impending doom, auntie. _

Her Aunt Jenny was never the concerned-parent type, so it was more in genuine inquisition she asked this, rather than in a tone where the worst-case scenarios were cycling their way through her head. That was when she knew her aunt was the best person to call, and that she had made the right choice.

"I'm out. At a party. But I have no ride home and I need to be home by 1:15 to make curfew."

"Was there drinking?"

Kaia paused. Well, her aunt wasn't dumb. She'd figure it out. She prided herself on the fact that she had never drank as a teenager, but funnily enough, her Aunt Blair contested that with a wild smirk on her face that she was sure made everyone think the worst. She sighed.

"Yes."

Her aunt was silent for a minute. Probably thinking if she should call her parents or leave them out of it, at least for the time being.

"Are you drunk?" she finally asked, and Kaia sucked in a sharp breath.

"Yes."

Now it was her aunt's turn to sigh. It was emphatic. _Was it in disappointment?_

That concerned parent act was rare for her, and it was mostly used on her and her propensity for trouble and likely only for the sake of her brother– she often mumbled to herself, when she thought Kaia couldn't hear, that _Serena and her daughter have been painted with the same brush_.

She knew that her aunt loved her though. Any history or bad blood between Jenny and her mom aside. That was why Kaia willed the disappointment to go away. She needed somebody on her side.

"Okay, Kai. I'm coming to get you. What's the address?"

She let out a breath of relief. "1020 Ashbury Lane."

"Okay. I'm on my way, honeybee. Keep your phone on."

Kaia felt herself blushing, her cheeks hot and her stomach jolting a little. She felt a sudden swell of love and thankfulness towards her aunt. She hadn't called he_r honeybee_ since she was ten years old and Kaia had profusely told her to stop.

"Okay. I love you, Aunt Jenny."

"Right back at you, love."

Then the phone went dead as her aunt hung up.

Kaia checked the time every five minutes. Then three. Then two. She was getting anxious now. Finally, her aunt pulled up into the mass of cars blocking the driveway and Kaia left as discreetly as she could, weaving her way in and out of lines of cars of opulent makers. She closed the door to her aunt's Range Rover a little louder than necessary and turned to face her.

"Thanks Aunt Jenny for – wait – why is there a bowl sitting here?"

Her aunt raised an eyebrow. This was one of the few and far between moments she was without make up and without it – pale, fair skin, zero wrinkles and baby pink lips, she looked pretty. Not that her aunt wasn't a beautiful woman normally, because she was, but there was a silent call to her beauty now – a fresh face. It was a change, but it wasn't weird.

"For you to throw up in, if need be," she said, pursing those pinkish lips and turning around in the cul-de-sac.

She scoffed. "Thanks, but I don't need it. I can hold my liquor."

Another eyebrow raise, this time directed at the windshield.

"If you say so. Actually, would you like me to tell your parents you said that? I'm sure Dan would have a cow. His fifteen-year-old daughter _drinking alcohol._ And not just that, but she boasts about it too?"

Kaia shook her head. "Please don't."

Jenny smiled. "That's what I thought. Now let's get you home in one piece, shall we, honeybee?"

She smiled too. "Sounds like a plan."

Less than five minutes after arriving home, Kaia found herself bolting to the en-suite bathroom in her bedroom, pyjama shorts halfway on, and practically curling herself around the toilet miraculously all before she retched three consecutive times, before she was finally able to breathe again. _Shit._

Her mom was there first. Her mom was _always_ there first. Ever since she was little. A scraped knee. Hurt feelings. A stomach flu. She was always the first one there to rub her back in circles and tell her that everything would be okay.

It had something to do with not being the mom that her grandmother was – admittedly, Kaia had listened to her parents conversations sometimes and probably _however many_ times too many, but still, it was a sweet sentiment, and as her daughter, Kaia appreciated it. Just maybe not right now.

"_Oh, babe_. How much did you have to drink tonight?" she cooed, holding her hair back from her face.

Kaia responded by vomiting once more, wiping her face on her sleeve before responding. "I don't know. Too much, I guess. It didn't really taste like alcohol, so I assumed it hadn't done much but – "

"Don't bullshit me, Little K," her mom scolded, sounding so much like her Aunt Blair, even down to the nickname, it was eerie. "You know _how_ to drink. I'm not naive. What you don't know is how to be responsible."

Kaia sighed. There was no use in fighting it. "Fine. I probably drank a few more shots than I should have after losing_ hard_ at pong. I just thought I could sleep it off. Jokes on me, huh?"

"You're absolutely right."

Her mom's tone was harsh and terse, but when she got sick again, this time dry heaving violently, it got softer.

"Oh babe," she said again, the back rubbing starting up again as she kissed the back of her neck. "It'll be over soon."

Kaia had witnessed Amelia get sick like this once or twice but had never done it herself. Right then and there she decided she would never do it again, if she could help it. _Because,_ she thought, as her stomach lurched again at a nauseating speed and her face got hot, _it really freaking sucked._

"Jesus Christ."

Her dad's voice broke through the momentary calm her mom had created. She flinched. She could feel his stare on her back.

"Kaia Sophia – what's going on here?"

"Dan. "

Her mom stood up from off the floor and ostensibly went over to her dad, although she couldn't lift her head from the toilet to look. It was too exhausting.

"Lecturing her is not going to help anything right now. It will all fall on deaf ears. And I don't even think it will help at all."

"Serena what are you talking about? Of course, it'll – "

"Baby hold on. You've seen me like this – and you've also been me, right now, in this scenario. You've held my hair back, stroked my hair, kissed my cheek, told me that you'd stay here all night if you had to and that it would be over soon..."

"Yeah, but you were my girlfriend, I wasn't your father. I wasn't there to tell you right from wrong or lecture you on the dangers of underage drinking – or drinking at all."

"And a lecture wouldn't have done any good for me. You, being there, did good for me. So, hold off. Be there for your daughter now. Coddle her now and parent her later.

"Right now, she needs her _daddy,_ not her _father_. She's vulnerable and scared and needs you to be the man that kissed her booboos better and patched them with an Elmo band aid. Tomorrow you can be the man that grounds her for staying out past curfew."

Kaia felt herself nodding. She could picture her mom holding his hands tightly, moving her thumbs over the backs of his palms and giving him that watery, puppy stare Kaia herself was also, curtesy of her mother, famous for giving.

"Fine," her dad said, then, softer, "okay."

She lifted her head just in time to see her dad cup her mom's cheeks in his hands and kiss her forehead, before he looked down at her, and Kaia gave him a sheepish little smile, coupled with _that stare,_ as he knelt down and did the same thing to her.

His lips were a little chapped and his stubble was tough on her skin, but her utter exhaustion and the fact that she was so thankful for him she could cry, stopped her from caring.

"I love you. Both of you," Kaia looked at her parents, who were both on their knees now, surrounding her on either side. "So much. And I give you permission to ground me in the morning."

"And we will," her mom said, kissing her temple.

"For eternity," her dad added, his mouth against her hair.

She didn't doubt they were serious. But still, she smiled. She wouldn't trade her family for the world.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Because Dan and Serena as parents kind of gets me in the feels. And Aunt Jenny. Obviously. Let me know what you think or what you want to read! xoxo. **_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Author's Note: I saw that this story had some activity again, and I also started watching season 2 of You, which got me thinking about Gossip Girl again, so I went back and watched a bit. The Kiss on the Lips party in particular. Where Serena and Dan are saving Jenny from Chuck, and I realized how much I wanted to write a boyfriend's-little-sister protective fic with Serena and Jenny. So, this was born. It takes place somewhere recently after A Thin Line Between Chuck and Nate. No edits, so sorry for any typos! Without further ado, here it is! Let me know if you like it! Xx_**

* * *

Serena watched little Jenny Humphrey stumble in her obviously new and very obviously last season Jimmy Choo's, nearly snagging the welcome matt at the front door under her left heel.

She swayed a little from side to side, latching a firm grip onto the sofa adjacent to the armchair Serena was currently curled up in, trying to replace the heat of her boyfriend's warm body with a fuzzy throw she'd found on the back of said sofa.

Dan had left a little bit ago to get them some movie snacks because of course _somebody _ate the last bag of popcorn and peanut M&M's that he had specifically called dibs on.

It was likely the same _somebody_ whose face was so white it nearly matched her hair, who looked like she was about to throw up on the carpet, which, honestly, looked like it hasn't ever seen a decent cleaning before, so whatever Jenny was about to do or not do on it, really wouldn't make too much of a difference.

"Hey, you okay?"

Serena met her eyes, and they were scared, but aware. She helped ease her onto the couch and rubbed her kneecap softly before taking her hand off of her.

"I'm fine."

Serena wasn't convinced. Not in the slightest. She'd seen fine, and she's seen not fine, and this girl was the second one.

"Jenny, seriously. You don't look so good."

Jenny sighed and bit her lip. With her makeup half gone and her hair fallen flat, she looked like the fifteen year old girl Serena was just getting to really know as Dan's little sister, who was also not the same person from the Kiss on the Lips party.

That was a relief, and it was something of a similar feeling to know that Dan agreed. That nervous look came back, except now, it was stress.

"Serena, I'm fine okay. Just drop it, I'm just a little – "

She paused, almost as if trying to catch her breath, or stop it. "Dizzy is all…"

Serena was ready to call it. Bullshit, that is. She knew this too well. Blair had been there. Nate. Chuck. The whole Constance/St. Jude student body. And queen Serena Van der Woodsen herself, many, many times before, and in much worse shape than Jenny was, which was oddly comforting.

"How much did you have to drink tonight, Jenny?"

Jenny turned to look at her again. She was fighting with the urge to look away.

"More than I probably should have."

Serena could see that the girl needed some guidance. This was unfamiliar territory for her. Her body was experiencing alcohol to excess, and more than that, so was her mind. Slow. Sluggish. Senseless.

She sat beside her and started stroking her hair. It was an automatic reaction, one that Jenny hadn't consented, but if anyone could get away with it, it would be her. With anyone.

"Oh, sweet Jenny Humphrey…"

"You can't tell Dan, or my dad."

"Mhm."

She kept stroking her hair, hit her leg with hers, grounding her. "We should get you to bed before you fall asleep out here. Do you think you're gonna puke, or can I take you straight to your bedroom?"

Jenny sat up now. Made real eye contact with her. "Serena, I'm serious. They'll freak out. Both of them."

"And Jenny, I'm serious. Now, bed, or – "

Just then, Jenny sprang up to her feet, like a cat but much less agile, and made a beeline for the bathroom. Serena reached the door just as she was retching into the expanse of the bowl, the sounds loud enough to echo throughout the whole apartment. Or, this Brooklyn apartment was small enough. More than likely.

Not wasting any more time, Serena leapt into action. She was playing the role of the Sober Mom friend, which she wasn't all that familiar with, but she could remember Blair's cool hands on the back of her neck and soft, sad, sighs like it was all happening right in front of her.

"Oh, Jenny, sweetheart. This isn't you. I don't want it to be you."

Jenny groaned in her break between retches. "I haven't really drank before. Obviously. And I…don't think it's something I really like doing."

Serena hummed. "And you shouldn't. Not at your age."

Where was this coming from? She was starting to sound like her own mother. A better, far less condescending, version.

The only sound was heavy breathing and retching, for the next minute or two, until the front door opened, and Dan's voice called out.

"Reena? Where are you?"

Her head snapped up, alarmed, as did Jenny's.

"What do you want me to say?" she whispered, moving her palm across Jenny's back in a soothing motion.

"Stomach flu."

"Serena?" Dan called out again, his voice getting closer.

"Uh. In here!"

Dan doubled back in the hallway and stuck his head in the doorframe, immediately concerned. He hadn't seen his little sister yet.

"What are you – wait – Jenny? Shit, Serena, what's going on?"

"Uh – "

Serena stumbled over her lie as the sound of Jenny throwing up distracted her for a moment. It was pretty violent.

"Stomach thing. Food poisoning. The flu. I don't know."

"Awe, Jen…" Dan was quick to get on his knees and be there with her, which spoke to just how nurturing of a person he was. It made her smile. Almost. "What did you eat?"

Once there was a break, Jenny was able to speak. "From our usual Indian place. Bad butter chicken, I guess."

It was flimsy. She should have said a different place neither of them had ordered from before, but it'll do.

"Awe no."

Dan watched as Jenny laid her head carefully against the bowl and she heard him sigh. "Do you think you can lay down now and try to get some sleep? Serena and I can stay here, if you want."

He was giving her such a hopeful, sad, face that she couldn't possibly say no. And she had to make sure under no circumstances did Jenny slip up tonight.

"I'll get the pillows and a blanket. Linen closet is on the right?"

Dan gave her a smile that spoke so much more than his words ever could. "You got it. Thanks, Reena."

A few minutes later, Jenny was asleep in the makeshift bed they'd built for her on the bathroom floor, and both she and Dan were sitting close to her, she with her legs crossed, he with his stretched out the opposite direction.

Startling her, he took her face in his hands, caressed her cheeks soft, slow. She met his gaze. "Hey."

"Hey," he said back, the word masked in another sigh. "Thank you for tonight. For taking care of her like that."

"It was no problem, really."

"Well, it may not be a big deal to you, but it was to me. You know I love you, yeah?"

She smiled softly at him, kissing him chastely. "I love you, too."

Jenny murmured in her sleep, causing the both of them to look over at her, awaiting her to stir, to wake up, something. But there was nothing.

Serena let out a sigh, smiling at Dan to cover it up. They were in the clear, for now.


End file.
